


Broken Mirrors

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5837269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D., Director Coulson recruits Leo Fitz to his team after his ex-wife vouches for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1) While Googling for title ideas, I came across a couple quotes that fit this story quite well: 
> 
> “Broken vows are like broken mirrors. They leave those who held to them bleeding and staring at fractured images of themselves.” – Richard Paul Evans
> 
> “Love at first sight is easy to understand; it’s when two people have been looking at each other for a lifetime that it becomes a miracle.” – Sam Levenson
> 
> (Which should tell you to expect angst, smut, angst, romance, angst, humor and angst)
> 
> 2) The “present day” (ca. season 2) scenes are chronological, but the story overall is nonlinear, so be sure to pay attention to the dates.

_The Bus, Late August, 2013_

Jemma leaned over from her bench to check the email that had just pinged an alert. Fitz. She hadn’t heard from him in several weeks, and they hadn’t exactly parted on good terms. With a shaking hand, Jemma peeled off her glove, then removed her safety glasses. After another brief moment of hesitation, she grabbed the mouse and moved it to click the link.

There was no message, just an attachment. It seemed to take forever to download, but when it finally opened, Jemma felt the breath rush out of her, like someone had sucker punched her in the gut. 

Petition for Divorce.

Jemma closed the document immediately, irrationally feeling as if just ignoring it would make it go away. She supposed she should have expected something like this. She couldn’t even really blame him; she was the one who left, even after he begged her not to. Jemma closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and stood up.

“Donnie, please excuse me for a moment.”

She didn’t wait for a reply from her young protégé before she hurried up the curling stairs towards the main section of the Bus. She just needed a moment, some privacy to process it all. But she was so focused on getting to her bunk, so unaware of her surroundings and practically tunnel visioned, that she literally ran into Skye before even realizing there was someone else in the narrow hallway.

“Whoa! Jemma! Where’s the fi – what’s wrong? Is everything OK?”

Jemma realized she was trembling but couldn’t figure out how to stop. Tears pooled in her eyes, and Skye’s brows lifted high on her forehead. Grabbing Jemma’s hand, Skye pulled her the remaining steps into her bunk and closed the door behind them before forcing her to sit. Skye plopped down next to her, squeezing her hand in support, and was about to speak again.

“Sorry!” Jemma blurted. “Sorry, I – it’s just – I’ve had a shock is all. Really, it’s – you don’t…” 

Jemma trailed off, staring at their clasped hands in a strange sort of haze. All she could think was ‘he doesn’t love me anymore.’ Maybe he was sick of having this hanging over them. Maybe he meant it when he said he hated her. Maybe he still thought Jemma and Donnie were… Maybe he had found someone new himself. Oh God. That must be it. He had met another woman, someone he wanted to be with more than her, someone he fell for immediately just like he had fallen for her once. Were they engaged already? Was this just a formality he had to take care of before he could be happy the rest of his life without her?

Jemma’s breath shuddered as she exhaled. 

“Please talk to me, Simmons,” Skye coaxed. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Jemma swallowed past the painful lump in her throat. “I’ve…received divorce papers just now,” she explained in a hollow tone. 

“You’re _married_?!”

Jemma cringed, regretting now her decision to not tell anyone on the Bus about the details of her life before she met them. Oh, Coulson would have had access to her files and the rest knew the bullet points, of course: two Ph.D.s by 17, youngest Academy graduate in history, the years at Sci-Ops before returning to the Academy – this time, Operations – for a year-long crash course in field techniques, and then May recruiting her for the Bus team. It was the more personal details she left out, the parts of her life that haunted her memories and that she had forbidden Donnie from ever mentioning as a condition of his own promotion to the team.

The classmate she kissed one night when they were finishing up a project for chem lab. The first boy she had ever dated. The second youngest Academy graduate, and her lab mate and partner in developing indispensable tech for field agents at Sci-Ops. The boy – man, by then…well, legally – who had taken her to dinner one night and proposed, who awakened so many latent, girlish fantasies that she ignored all her friends, her family, her colleagues who reminded them they were so young and there was no rush and if they loved each other as much as they claimed to, there would be no harm in waiting until they were at least old enough to drink in the States. But there was no stopping them, and there was no one to blame but themselves when it all crashed and burned.

_A Cemetery, Undisclosed U.S. City, Late September, 2014_

Fitz didn’t notice at first that there was someone standing next to him, and he rather embarrassingly jumped in surprise when he finally did. Yeah, clearly still very much not a field agent. He still felt like he was going to lose his lunch every time he remembered the blood…spurting…out of Hartley’s wrist as he, oh God, cut off her hand. That had been only days ago, but it seemed like a lifetime. The last few months had been one horror after another. If only he could invent a time machine to go back and tell himself to just stay in the lab where he belonged. Joining Isabelle’s team had not been the change he needed. It didn’t make him feel better, it didn’t make him forget… _her_ , and it certainly wasn’t going to be enough to get her back, no matter what his bastard little subconscious hoped. If anything, she’d just be pissed that he went into the field after all, when he had made such a fuss about not going with her when she had wanted to.

He had been right though, hadn’t he? Their work wasn’t somehow more valuable or less deadly just because they had the opportunity to see firsthand how their inventions saved some lives and ended others. And the stress of it certainly wouldn’t have stopped their bickering or given them the time and opportunity to fix all the things that had broken between them. It would have just – 

Eventually, the realization that Coulson was waiting for an answer jolted him back to the present.

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“I asked, have you given any more thought to my job offer? Mack and Bobbi have already agreed.”

Fitz sighed. He looked out across the cemetery again. This was it, what they had been working so hard for, what Izzy had, in a way, given her life for: getting into Coulson’s inner circle. And yet, deep down, he knew there was only one reason he wanted to say yes. 

It was the same reason he wanted to run as far away as possible.

_S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy of Science and Technology, Early January, 2004_

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes!” Fitz lied defensively. 

Crap. What had they been talking about? What had she said? What kind of response was she…

Simmons sighed in clear annoyance and something else Fitz couldn’t quite identify. She turned away from him then, focusing on the beakers and flasks in front of her. If pressed, Fitz doubted he could remember the contents of each container or even the goal of this lab. He had been far too busy cataloguing the different colors of brown Simmons’ hair was. 

“It’s OK if you want to call it a night, Fitz. I can finish up by myself.”

“What – no!”

“Really, it’s OK.”

“But…we’re partners,” he argued dumbly, wondering why she was trying to get rid of him, afraid he had done something so horrendously wrong, she’d never forgive him or talk to him again. He had just been distracted, that’s all. It didn’t mean he – 

“I know we’re partners,” she said. “But…I also know you didn’t want to be partners with me, so I think if we – ”

Fitz blinked, thunderstruck. “Huh? Of course I wanted to be partners with you!”

Simmons sent him a skeptical look before concentrating on the equipment again. Fitz leapt to his feet then, reaching forward to help with the titration in a strange attempt to prove to her just how much he wanted to be there.

“You hate me,” she said, her voice just a little wobbly. “You never talked to me before you were forced to.”

He nearly knocked over everything in surprise. How could she have gotten the wrong end of the stick like that? How could he explain to her what he really thought of her without letting on how he really felt about her? Fitz inhaled, then pushed the breath out and licked his lips. Staring straight ahead, he tried not to blush as he responded.

“I don’t hate you. I just never…I couldn’t think of anything to say to you.”

Simmons scoffed. “Because we have nothing in common, right?”

“I mean,” Fitz continued, feeling frustrated, “nothing that would – that would impress you.”

It was Simmons’ turn to gape, and even though Fitz still couldn’t look directly at her, he could feel her eyes on him, which just made his blush even brighter. He began babbling in panic.

“You’re just so brilliant, and I’ve seen how…no one here can hold your attention for very long because you can work in circles around them. I wanted to be your friend, but I know that I’m not – I’m the least interesting of everyone here so why would you even… And I’m just not very good at talking to people I don’t know or, you know, anyone at all, let alone dead smart and pretty girls and…”

“Oh, Fitz,” Simmons interrupted him, her voice low and throaty and hinting at some kind of emotion but hell if he knew what it meant. “You’re the most interesting person here. The only interesting person, really.”

He was so surprised, he had to look at her then, and he tried to gauge if she was telling the truth or just trying to make him feel better. It was strangely gratifying to see that she was blushing just as much as he was, and seemed possibly even more awkward and hesitant than he felt. But then, suddenly, she was shifting closer, getting right up into his personal space and looking at him with a…coy?…expression. 

“Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Fitz floundered, his mouth opening and closing. Finally he choked out a very eloquent, “Yeah.”

Simmons ducked her head with a smile, then lifted it to make eye contact with him again. Fitz, meanwhile, had forgotten how to breathe. 

“I think you’re very handsome,” Simmons whispered. 

“Oh. I mean…really?!”

Simmons just barely nodded and bit her lower lip, which Fitz for the life of him could not drag his eyes away from. It took him a moment to realize her face was getting closer, that she was resting one hand on his chest as she leaned forward.

“Oh my God,” he muttered. 

Simmons’ smile grew wider but by then it was hard for him to look at her without going cross-eyed. Fitz closed his eyes and the next moment, he felt her lips brush his. He made a very embarrassing squeaky sort of sound before instinctively pressing back. He unconsciously lifted his hands towards her hips but wasn’t brave enough to actually let them rest there or, even more terrifying but thrilling to think about, slide them around her waist to her lower back or, God, her bum and pull her close. In his confused, overwhelmed joy (and, OK, lust), he couldn’t do anything and his hands just hovered near her awkwardly. After a moment, Simmons pulled back slowly, clinging to his lower lip until it was the last place they separated. Fitz blinked his eyes open to see her nervously peering at him.

“I never kissed a boy before,” she admitted. “Was that OK?”

“Hngh.”

She flashed a brilliant smile at that response, which certainly didn’t help him grasp the tattered ends of his composure. 

“Have…have you ever kissed someone before?”

Fitz shook his head frantically, not self-aware enough to even feel embarrassed at the confession. 

“Do you want to try it again?”

If anything, his nod was even more frantic. But that didn’t matter, because soon their mouths were moving over each other again, and this time her tongue tapped against his lips until he figured out what she wanted. The feel of her tongue filling his mouth, brushing against his own and tracing along the backs of his teeth was… Fitz groaned and deepened the kiss even more, stumbling forward as he managed to finally put his hands on her waist and push her against the bench. In some recess of his mind, he heard things rattle and shake, and he spared some small concern for ruining the experiment. But not enough concern to actually stop.

“Simmons,” he breathed out once, when they paused just briefly. His eyes were still closed, and he could feel her fingers playing with the curls at the back of his neck. 

“I think you can probably call me Jemma,” she responded, ever so slightly teasing. 

“Jemma,” he corrected before kissing her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to the anon who originally prompted me for a short Huntingbird AU on tumblr. This idea ended up being too great to restrict to a few sentences.


	2. Chapter 2

_S.H.I.E.L.D. Apartment, Current Cover Residence for Jemma Simmons, Early October, 2014_

Jemma gave Coulson a fond smile, watching as he placed the kale on the counter and brushed his hands together several times in preparation. And then, with a few instructions on where different utensils were and a reminder of how she liked her steaks cooked, she left him to it while she went for the bottle of wine on the side table. It had been another long, stressful day as a Hydra flunky and she wasn’t about to say no to some alcohol and a home-cooked meal…cooked by someone who wasn’t her.

She moaned almost obscenely around the first bite of meat, and then tried not to blush as she glanced up at Coulson.

“Good?” he asked, smiling.

“So good,” she confirmed.

The entire time he’d been cooking, she had filled him in on what she had learned, what _little_ she had learned, so far. And now, she didn’t know what to talk about. It wasn’t like she and Coulson were gossipy pals or anything. Certainly they were friendly, and as part of the Bus team, they had bonded strongly, but it wasn’t like she could ask him anything personal about his life or wanted to tell him any secrets of her own. Unfortunately, perhaps the one thing she wanted to know – ever since he had first asked her, during one of these info meets, about extending a job offer to Fitz – was dangerously personal. She decided to use her still-new spy skills to ask in a roundabout way.

“So, how is everyone?”

The knowing smirk he gave her in reply suggested far too much. His verbal response only confirmed he understood exactly what she was asking. 

“Fitz is OK,” he said. “He seems to be fitting in with the rest of the team.”

Jemma’s eyes darted to the side and she pasted on an uncomfortable smile as she nodded.

_The Hall Outside Fitz ~~Simmons~~ ’ Flat, Late November, 2013_

“Whoops!” Fitz exclaimed as he unexpectedly stumbled turning the corner of the hall.

Only a few more steps to go until he was home. He could make it. On one hand, he was regretting that last shot. Maybe the last two. On the other, he was thinking it was maybe time to tap into that bottle of liquor they got as an anniversary gift a couple years ago. They were saving it for a special occasion.

The divorce being final seemed _special_ enough, Fitz thought bitterly. 

She couldn’t even be arsed to come home for the official court date, just sent her attorney. It meant that little to her – or her precious field team meant that much. She and Donnie were probably celebrating tonight. 

A little bile threatened to come up at the thought. Fitz swallowed and shook his head, blinking rapidly so he could pretend there was no extra moisture in his eyes. He knew, _really_ , that there was nothing going on between them. That Jemma had just taken Donnie as a last little _fuck you_ to him. Donnie was _his_ protégé. And he didn’t even get shared custody. 

They didn’t have anything else to share either, really. No…no kids, no lab monkey, not even a dog. Jemma had told him to keep everything – the flat, the car, all their things – as there’d be no room for them on the plane anyway. She just took her share of the money in their joint bank account and left her ring on the coffee table for him to find when he came home that last, awful day.

Fitz did a double take, surprised to realize he was just outside the flat. He scowled at the door and patted his pockets trying to remember where his keys – ah, there they were.

He concentrated on the deadbolt, feeling somehow like this was some sort of test. If he could unlock the door in one go, then he wasn’t _that_ drunk. She hadn’t turned him into _that_ much of a mess. So when he couldn’t get the key into the hole, he fell forward, defeated, letting his head thump against the door.

“Why did she sign them?” he whined.

It had, God, it had been a test, a bluff. A way of asking her if that was what she really and truly wanted. The longer her response took, the more optimistic he had started to feel. He never expected the papers to finally come back to him, signed and notarized and mailed from some exotic location where they had stopped for some no doubt adrenaline-fueled, world-saving mission. She hadn’t even included a bloody postcard. _Not thinking of you. Don’t wish you were here._

Suddenly the door opened and Fitz toppled forward onto the ground. The world spun around him for a second, and then he turned to his back, trying to focus.

“Jemma?” he asked hopefully.

“Fitz!”

He furrowed his brow as he recognized the woman in his flat. His new neighbor, moved in a few months ago. She always wore tight, stretchy exercise clothes on her way to the gym where she worked or when she was heading out for a long run to train for yet another marathon. She always smiled at him when they passed, always stopped to try to talk to him, but Fitz had never been particularly social and since Jemma left…

“Yo-Yo?” he finally managed to ask. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” she slowly explained.

Fitz looked around, confused. He soon realized that either she had switched all their furniture around or he had been trying to unlock the wrong door. Parsimony would suggest the latter.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pulling himself up to a seating position.

“That’s OK,” Yo-Yo replied, crouching down to his level. 

She wasn’t working out at the moment and she certainly didn’t have on one of her usual sports bras that kept everything so tightly bound. All she had on was a loose tank top, through which Fitz could see the dusky circles of her nipples, and incredibly short shorts with the top rolled over to reveal her belly button and then some. Fitz swallowed thickly and dragged his eyes up.

He was single now, anyway; no harm in looking.

“You want some water?” Yo-Yo asked, her voice slow and sort of sultry, the way Jemma used to sound when she wanted him to… “Or maybe something stronger to drink? Keep the party going?”

Fitz breathed in and out before making eye contact.

He was single now.

_South Beach, Florida, Mid October, 2014_

It wasn’t something he was _proud_ of – well, not really. It was something Izzy and the others had latched onto as a strategy. The shy, nerdy guy with the accent could get just about any woman eating out of his hand when he needed to. And maybe it did occasionally stroke his masculine ego, remind him that just because she no longer wanted him, it didn’t mean no woman did. Of course, he had never let it go too far. He pretended it was because it had been for missions and it would have felt wrong. But he had never let things go too far with any woman off the clock either.

He didn’t know what he was waiting for. It wasn’t like he wanted to be celibate the rest of his life, waiting for her to come back to him or something. And just because they had been each other’s firsts, there was no reason to give that any sort of mystical power. It just...never happened. He couldn’t bring himself to take that step with someone else. 

Even that one time with Yo-Yo, all that had happened, or so she told him when he woke up extraordinarily hungover on her couch, was a rather heated make-out session that ended when the alcohol and depression stopped it from progressing any further. Apparently Fitz, limp-dicked and sobbing, had choked out Jemma’s name a few times in some kind of explanation, and Yo-Yo gave him some water and tossed a blanket at him. 

Needless to say, she had gone off him after that and there had been no second attempt. 

So, no, he still hadn’t taken that last step in moving on from his marriage, but he was at least much more comfortable with seduction, at least in the name of espionage. And the girl plastered against him, smiling as she closed the distance between them, didn’t even notice as his hand slipped into her purse, pulled out the flash drive and reached out behind her. He kept his eyes open long enough to see Skye zoom past and snag the device right out of his hand. Then he closed his eyes, savoring the kiss for a few more beats, trying not to compare the press of her lips or the curve of her waist to someone’s he’d never feel again.

_Hydra Lab, Late October, 2014_

Jemma schooled her features carefully as Kenneth was dragged away, reminding herself he was a bad man who had been excited over the WMD Hydra was trying to create. The little sleight of hand tricks May taught her turned out to be extremely useful, and now she just needed to keep it together long enough to make it out of the building alive.

Other scientists throughout the room were still nervous, some talking to each other, others looking around suspiciously, likely wondering if anyone else was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in disguise or if they would be the next ones dragged out by Bakshi or one of his men. As a few of them began to turn back to their work in an attempt to look busy and loyal, Jemma faced her own station again, carefully reaching forward to unhook the hard drive and then slowly sliding it into her pocket. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone buzzed. The text message was in code; if anyone else saw it, it would read as a greeting from her Aunt Mabel. Jemma didn’t have an Aunt Mabel, of course, but she did have a May, who was informing her to get to the southwest corner of the roof ASAP. Her ride out of there was almost in place. 

“Goodness,” Jemma said, hoping she didn’t sound as scared as she felt. “Too much tea this morning. Excuse me.”

The technician next to her barely acknowledged her. Yeah, no matter what Coulson suggested, she never had been able to make friends there. Oh well. 

She walked out into the empty corridor and sighed in relief. Reminding herself to stay calm, she made her way to the nearest stairwell. She was almost there when her phone buzzed again. Jemma pulled it out quickly, glancing around in paranoia to make sure no one was around her, and then looked at the screen for what she assumed were more instructions.

The photo attachment of her on the bench, S.H.I.E.L.D. communication technology in hand, was apparently sent to everyone on the Hydra mailing list. 

Unfortunately, it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.

Jemma broke into a run. Just as she reached the door to the stairs, she heard shouts behind her and rapid footfalls as her pursuers started running themselves. Two shots rang out, followed almost simultaneously by the blast next to her head when the bullets struck the wall instead. She didn’t look back or scream, just let her training take over as she pulled the door open and then pushed it closed again behind her. 

“What – stop – ”

The guard only had a moment to respond, his surprise obvious, before Jemma wrestled the baton out of his unprepared hands and swung it forcefully up and over. He crumpled as soon as it made contact, and Jemma whirled, slotting the baton through the handle of the door in the nick of time. She exhaled in relief as it held, preventing the Hydra agents from getting in. 

She turned again, taking the stairs two at a time, her lungs screaming for air and her legs shaky from the exertion by the time she reached the roof. She ran straight for the southwest corner, desperately hopeful that she – 

She ducked, lifting one hand in a futile attempt to protect her head from the bullet that whizzed past her. But they were too late; she had made it. There was no time to stop and check, no time to prepare. All she could do was hope that the extraction team had made it into position as she leapt onto the ledge and flung herself off it in one smooth movement. She couldn’t stop the scream as she fell, or the _oof_ as she struck the Quinjet. Her ankle rolled out from under her, making her landing anything but graceful. She slid several feet, but managed to catch herself and crawl towards the hatch as the jet both dropped its cloaking and started to zoom away from the Hydra base. Jemma grunted, using the last of her strength to open the hatch and slide through, jolting her ankle again as she dropped to the ground. 

“Hey, girl.”

Despite everything, she couldn’t stop her smile. She would have kissed him, if they were still doing that kind of thing. “Trip, it’s so good to see you.”

He flashed her a grin, nearly blinding her with his shiny white teeth, and then said something into the radio. Jemma didn’t pay attention too closely as she dropped into the co-pilot seat with a bit of a groan. She twisted, lifting up so she could reach into her pocket and pull out the hard drive. She grimaced at the damage and hoped Skye or…someone would be able to fix it. 

There wasn’t too much time to worry about that though, before they were landing. It felt strange to be coming – well, _home_ didn’t seem like the right word but close enough. She could barely control her excitement about seeing the others, suppressing every little hint of conflicting emotion over seeing Fitz again soon as well. Nonetheless, she couldn’t move very fast, as her ankle had started to swell. She probably had sprained it, judging by the pain that was causing her to limp. Trip kept pace with her, one hand hovering at the small of her back to support or catch her if necessary. It was nice – she’d forgotten what it was like to be around people who cared, who looked out for her, who…were her family. 

Case in point, the first person she saw when she entered the main room of the base. She forgot all about her injury and rushed forward to pull Skye into a tight hug. 

“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” Skye declared. 

Jemma nodded, about to reply when she heard her name said by a voice she hadn’t heard in far too long. 

“Simmons.”

She hesitated briefly, building up her strength, then turned to face him. 

“Hello Fitz.” Any emotional control she thought she had developed over the last year or so, any of the stoic strength she had tried to learn from May, disappeared at the sight of him. He looked like he had recently got some sun, and like he had lost all his razors. He had filled out some and developed muscles that somehow simultaneously made her mouth water from lust and her eyes prick with tears of mourning for the skinny, pasty boy she once knew. “Nice suit.”

“Nice suit? Really? _That’s_ what you’re leading with?” 

Jemma sighed, rolling her eyes and shifting her weight before remembering her ankle. She winced and wobbled slightly before catching her balance. 

“What did you do to your ank – hair?” he demanded. 

Jemma tilted her head, confused by the question and even more so by the poorly hidden flash of concern. “I cut it,” she replied, pointing out the obvious. “Ever hear of undercover?”

Fitz seemed to struggle for an answer. Finally, he said, “I prefer you with long hair,” then spun on his heel and walked out of the room.

Jemma sighed loudly, wondering if she would end up regretting her support of Coulson’s hiring Fitz. Then she shook her head, smiled once more at the rest of the team, and went to get her ankle taken care of so she could relax a bit after her harrowing escape (and, a small voice suggested, the even more unsettling reunion).

\---

Skye sidled over next to May as Jemma disappeared down the hall. Trip was right behind her and seemed to have the same objective.

“So, uh, what’s the deal there?” Skye asked.

May glanced at her, then at Trip. “Simmons ever mention her ex?” 

“Only once,” Skye replied. “And she refused to give details.”

“Same for me,” Trip added. “Just enough for me to realize…well.”

“Why?” Skye added.

May smirked, then nodded her head in the general direction of where Fitz and Simmons had both disappeared. Even then, it took Skye a moment.

“Fitz?!” she nearly shouted when she figured it out. 

Trip, strangely, seemed unfazed. He merely nodded as if the gossip explained everything he hadn’t quite figured out about their brilliant but grumpy new team member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Yo-Yo scene is mostly a joke because so many people seem convinced she's going to be an obstacle/love interest for Fitz. I'll believe it when I see it, folks. (Full disclosure: I said the same thing about Space Boyfriend.)


	3. Chapter 3

_S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy of Science and Technology, Mid March, 2004_

Fitz hummed a little tune to himself as he organized his lunch. Fork, napkin, a glass of water. All he needed was the food itself, waiting patiently in the fridge. He hurried over, skidding a bit and grabbing onto the door handle as he went too far. He was just grateful he didn’t fall. Jemma was always getting on him about proper lab safety and etiquette. Not that the kitchen really counted as the lab, as he reminded her many times, but she could be quite the stickler for rules. She was so uptight, that one. It was utterly adorable, and if Fitz were being completely honest, one of the reasons he so frequently “forgot” to behave himself was because he loved watching her get so worked up. She’d turn a pretty little shade of red and stand as straight as she could to make up for the fact that he just barely had a couple inches on her. If his increased appetite and too-short pants were any indication, he might be hitting one last growth spurt, although Jemma argued that those things were just typical for him. Fitz hoped he was right, not her, because it wasn’t like he didn’t see Jemma sometimes glance at the few cadets who looked like they belonged at Operations instead…

But anyway, it was probably his favorite thing, whenever she scolded him. And he freely admitted that probably said something kind of fetishy about him, but…well, he might be a genius but he was also a teenage boy, and watching her chest heave and her eyes flash as she crowded up against him, poking her finger into his sternum, sometimes felt like a religious experience. It seemed like she agreed, considering how often the words _Oh, God_ came out of her mouth whenever he couldn’t take it anymore and pulled her into a snog to shut her up. 

Fitz shook his head quickly, clearing it of the mental image and letting the cool air from the open fridge calm him down even more. Then he reached inside, grabbing the Tupperware container off the shelf. As he headed towards the microwave, he peeled off the top – and promptly dropped the whole thing on the ground.

“Oh my God!” he shouted.

As if from far away, he heard footsteps running – _running in the lab, for God’s sake_ – towards the kitchen, but the majority of his senses were staging a revolt. He darted forward, curling around the edge of the sink and gagging futilely.

“Fitz? Fitz, what is it? Is – oh no, what did you do?!”

“What did _I_ do? What _the hell_ is that?”

__“It’s Missy’s liver,” she said matter-of-factly from where she was crouched and scooping up the…the… _ugh_. “And you’ve contaminated it.”_ _

__Fitz turned to stare at her, horrified. “Missy, your roommate’s cat?”_ _

__“Dead cat, yes.”_ _

__“Why was it next to my lunch?!” Fitz exploded._ _

__“Oh, Fitz.” Jemma rolled her eyes as she stood up. “I had to store it somewhere until I could dissect it.”_ _

__Fitz faced the sink again, sticking his tongue out as he retched once more. After taking several deep breaths, with his eyes squeezed shut, he started to feel a little calmer._ _

__“Have you put it away yet?”_ _

__“Yes, Fitz.”_ _

__He risked a quick glance, and then turned fully when he discovered she had told the truth. She didn’t even look apologetic, really. Fitz sighed and leaned back against the counter. He shook his head at her in disappointment. “You know, Jemma, there are proper refrigerators for biohazard containers, _and_ they should be clearly labeled._ _

__“Oh, hush,” Jemma ordered, smirking a bit._ _

__“Frankly, I’m shocked at you, such a flagrant disregard for lab protocol. As much as I love you, I don’t think I can condone these bad girl shenanigans.”_ _

__Jemma stared at him, shocked, and Fitz thought back over what he had just said. It only took a few moments before he realized what she was reacting to._ _

__“Um…”_ _

__“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma breathed out. She suddenly smiled widely, stepping forward enough to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss._ _

__“I love you too,” she murmured against his lips._ _

__Fitz acted quickly, holding one hand to the swell of her bum and the other high between her shoulders as he spun them both and pressed her against the wall. She gasped sharply, then groaned, allowing – even encouraging – him to draw her into another passionate kiss._ _

__Jemma Simmons, in love with him. He guessed a cat liver next to his lunch was a small price to pay for –_ _

__No. It was disgusting, and he’d never let her forget it._ _

____

_The Playground, Late October, 2014_

Jemma sipped her tea pensively, her eyes narrowing as she watched the morning routine she had become familiar with in the months before Donnie went to run the newly restored Sandbox and she went to Hydra.

“There’s no clock,” she observed. “No light, no way he can know what time it is.”

Skye glanced up at her. “You’ve been watching him?”

“Every day before I left, every day since I got back,” Jemma confirmed. She sighed, then added, “I don’t know how you do it, going down there talking to him.”

“Sacrifices we make for valuable intel, right?”

Jemma raised her eyebrows, conceding the point. “Yeah.”

“Jemma Simmons, undercover at Hydra.”

Somehow, just hearing someone say that even now, after she had already been extracted safely, still made her heart beat fast as something inside her seized up in terror. She tried not to let it show though, faking a smile and shaking her head in response.

“I thought I was a dead woman at least four times.”

“I’m glad you’re not.”

“Me too.” She stared at Ward again. “Be careful with him, Skye.”

“I am,” Skye confirmed. 

They were silent for a long moment, watching Ward. Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last. 

“Hey, speaking of exes,” Skye began leadingly, and Jemma rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Skye,” she acknowledged. “Fitz is my ex-husband.”

“How did you meet? How long were you married?”

Jemma sighed. “At the Academy, when we were 17. He was…he was my first boyfriend. We got married a couple years later, after we started at Sci-Ops so, ah, almost eight years. Technically. I, um, I left, that is, we separated a year, year and a half, before the, you know, the divorce.”

When Skye didn’t respond, Jemma risked a glance at her, only to see her staring up, mouth wide open in shock. Skye blinked dramatically and shook her head. “I really thought you were gonna say, like, a year or something. Like, a drunken night in Vegas. But you’ve known him since you were a kid and were married a better part of a decade, and I _cannot_ wrap my mind around this.”

Jemma shrugged.

“And I mean, no offense, but…you were attracted to Mike Peterson, you dated Trip, and I’ve seen how you look at Mack – that is, when I can drag my own eyes away from those guns. Then there’s Fitz. One of these things is not like the others.”

Jemma smiled wryly. “I think the last year or two, my type has been people who don’t remind me of Fitz.”

“I take it the split was not…amicable then.”

Jemma snorted, mostly in an attempt to hide the heartbreak. Thankfully, she was spared from sharing any more personal details by May walking purposely into the room. 

“There’s been an attack on the U.N.”

_FitzSimmons’ Flat, Early January, 2005_

With a burst of static, the peaceful stillness of the room was rudely interrupted by the radio alarm. Fitz groaned and rolled closer to Jemma, using the arm he had wrapped around her waist to hold her as he tried to wedge his face into the dark groove made by her neck and shoulder. Despite his clear attempts to postpone the inevitable with some cuddling or preferably more than that, she sat up and turned off the alarm. Then she threw the blankets off herself and smiled at him over her shoulder as she stood.

“No,” he whined. “Come back to bed.”

“Fitz! It’s our first day! We can’t be late.”

He scoffed, propping himself up on his elbows. “We’re the youngest graduates in history. What’s S.H.I.E.L.D. gonna do, fire us?”

“Aren’t you excited?”

“I’m very excited. That’s why I want you to come back to bed.”

She glanced back at him from where she stood pulling clothes out of the closet, and he nodded to indicate the rather prominent bulge he had woken up with. She snorted and headed towards the bathroom.

Fitz pouted and fell back onto his pillow. 

“If you don’t hurry,” she threatened over the sound of the shower, “I’ll pick out our lab space without you.”

He kept his grumbled reply low enough so she wouldn’t hear.

“And if you don’t hurry, I’ll have to shower all by my lonesome.”

He fought against the sheets, tangling himself up even more and nearly falling on the floor, as he attempted to get out of bed. 

For Jemma’s sake, he tried, he really did, to be cordial with their new coworkers at Sci-Ops. But it wasn’t his fault that the field agents stationed there were so obvious about the way they stared in lust at her nubile young body or about the way they stared, incredulous, when they realized based on Fitz’ quite subtle, thank you very much, body language that she was spoken for. It was another scientist in the lab, a motherly type, who finally asked though. When she heard that they were indeed a couple and had been for about a year at that point, she made a high-pitched squealy sort of noise and gushed about how adorable they were. Fitz trusted that would make the gossip rounds soon enough and he could stop worrying about all the beefcakes eyeing Jemma up. And then they could actually get some work done. This was a lab, not a high school, for God’s sake.

_The Playground, Late October, 2014_

Jemma watched the news, feeling horrified and strangely guilty.

“We’re not responsible for this, are we, sir?”

Coulson looked at her. 

“Didn’t think so.”

Bobbi continued her report, and Jemma followed her and Coulson into the office. She stared at the screens in there, listening to Bobbi wrap up. 

“The bodies just disintegrate,” she observed, remembering back to that last meeting, the one where Whitehall spoke to her. The last time she saw Kenneth before she sacrificed him to protect herself. “I saw references to this weapon in Hydra’s lab.” 

Coulson nodded, turned to Bobbi and gave her some orders, and then faced Jemma again.

“I need you to dig through the hard drive you brought back.”

She was already beginning to move as she responded. “I’ll find out whatever I can about those weapons. I'll get Skye to help.”

“Skye is working on scouring government channels. Work with Fitz.”

Jemma paused and looked back at her boss. “Fitz?”

“Is that gonna be a problem?”

“Did he say…no. No, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get too used to these daily updates...


	4. Chapter 4

_Train Somewhere Between Sheffield and Glasgow, Late December, 2004_

Fitz cringed as he remembered yet another less than positive moment from the last few days. Leaning his head against the cool window, he shook his head and sighed. Every possible opportunity he had to make a good first impression, he had just…wasted. If he could go back and learn social skills, he would. Well, no, not really, because then he wouldn’t have finished his Ph.D. in record time and he wouldn’t have been at the Academy, and he wouldn’t have met Jemma. And she was the only person who mattered.

Which unfortunately meant her family mattered too.

“I am so sorry,” he finally mumbled.

“What?” Jemma looked up from the new issue of _Science_. “Why?”

“I just…this weekend wasn’t very good, was it? I could barely hold a conversation, there was that time your mum thought I was hitting on her, and then that other time your dad found me in your room under _completely innocent_ circumstances, and then your brother – ”

“Oh, Fitz. It was fine. They like you.”

Fitz scoffed.

“They do! And they trust my judgment.”

He turned to look at her, still skeptical. Eventually, she wavered. 

“OK, yes. It could have gone better.” Fitz whimpered and faced the window again. “ _But_ it could have gone worse too.”

“Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

She reached out and patted his knee. He sat up, leaned forward urgently and caught her eye.

“Promise me – promise no matter what they say next time you talk, you won’t dump me.”

Jemma rolled her eyes, then leaned forward herself. She stared at him, unblinking. “I promise I won’t dump you. I will never dump you.”

He exhaled in relief and nodded. “Yeah, good. Because if you ever did, I don’t know what I would do. And I won’t dump you either.”

“Of course not,” Jemma replied breezily, returning to her journal. Then, suddenly, she lowered it to her lap. “Wait, what do you mean?”

He felt confused. “If my mum doesn’t like you.”

“Why wouldn’t your mum like me?!”

“She would! She will!” 

“Then why did you say that? Fitz! Oh God, she isn’t going to like me, is she?”

Fitz laughed, then moved across the seat to sit next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “She’s going to love you,” he promised. “Probably more than she loves me, even. You have nothing to worry about.”

Jemma huffed, bending her neck to rest her head against his shoulder. He caressed her, turning to kiss her temple. 

“The biggest problem we’ll face there is figuring out how to fit in my bed that, I’m serious here, is somehow actually smaller than the beds at the Academy.”

Jemma sat up abruptly and turned to face him. “I’m not sleeping in your bed.”

“Jemma!” Fitz’ eyes widened. “Wha – why not? She won’t mind! It’s been ages since – ”

“It’s been five nights. And it will be five more. I won’t have your mum thinking I’m some kind of hussy defiling her baby boy!”

Fitz grinned, shaking his head. “She really – ”

“The biggest problem you’ll face is blue balls, mister, because I’m not touching you from the moment we get there until the moment we leave.”

“But…” Fitz paled as he started to believe her. “Jemma…New Year’s.”

She hesitated, thinking about how she’d never kissed anyone on New Year’s Eve. Fitz started to smile again the longer she thought. When he slid a little closer, his hand moving to rest on her waist, she finally gave in. 

“Fine, a New Year’s Eve kiss. But that’s it.”

“Can I spend the rest of the trip trying to convince you otherwise?” he asked, leaning forward to murmur in her ear, his tone sending little shivers down her spine and making her thankful the car was mostly empty of other passengers. 

It really had been an exceptionally long five nights. No. Honestly, Jemma. She’d gone her whole life before meeting Fitz without this, and she could go a few more days. When they got back to the States, they’d be moving into their new flat for their new jobs and they’d be able to hole up together every evening and weekend. She could wait until then. She wasn’t gagging for it that bad.

Her train of thought derailed as Fitz sucked her earlobe between his teeth. Maybe she wouldn’t let him persuade her away from her conviction of abstinence for the rest of the holiday, but there was no harm in letting him build up a supply of fond memories to keep him company during the lonely nights in his boyhood bed. 

She sighed rather dreamily, barely registering the journal slip out of her hands and fall onto the floor. Fitz chuckled, placed a hand on her cheek, and pulled her into a kiss.

_The Playground, Late October, 2014_

“Morning, Fitz.”

Fitz looked up, startled. He hadn’t been expecting her, and he certainly hadn’t been expecting her to look so…simultaneously gorgeous and terrified. He stood up, feeling his heart start to race as she walked closer. He physically could not stop himself from dropping his eyes down and back up to check her out. And then he swallowed, searching for words. 

“Is that the, uh, hard drive that you stole?”

Jemma glanced at the device in her hands and nodded. “Coulson asked me to search it for anything related to the attacks,” she explained. “I…Um, I was hoping you could help. That is, if you’re not too – ”

“Yeah,” Fitz blurted, then immediately cringed. “Um, if you need my help, I suppose I’ve got some time.”

Yeah, good. Smooth. He didn’t want to come across as too desperate to do science with her. Or anything else, for that matter.

“Unfortunately, the drive was damaged during my escape,” she explained, following him as he led her to a different workstation. “We’ll have to repair it to access any of its intel…what?”

Fitz shook his head quickly when he realized he was staring again. He forced his eyes away, focusing intently on the hard drive she had just handed him. “You look different, that’s all,” he observed. Then he quickly waved his hand to downplay the comment. “Not _bad_ different just…”

Jemma seemed stunned, unable to answer, and Fitz knew he needed to change the subject fast.

“I can’t believe you actually went undercover in Hydra. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” she retorted, sounding annoyed, “that S.H.I.E.L.D. asked me to do something that could help win the fight against evil and that they knew I was the best choice for.”

He risked a glance at her then. It was more than the haircut, he realized. It was renewed confidence and a sense of purpose that he had started to miss a long time ago and a steel core of strength that maybe was new or maybe was just finally revealed. It was all the things being with him had drained out of her. She didn’t just look different; she was different. She was amazing. 

This woman would never look twice at a guy like him.

_Sci-Ops, Mid December, 2013_

Fitz knocked on the door to the corner conference room, curious about why his boss had called him there. At the acknowledgment, he opened the door and popped his head in. Agent Hand nodded at him in greeting.

“You wanted to see me?” 

“Come in, Fitz,” she replied.

It wasn’t until Fitz was fully in the room that he realized there was someone else in there, an older woman that looked remarkably like an older version of Xena, Warrior Princess. Jemma would be so…Jemma wasn’t there anymore. Fitz clenched his jaw as he remembered yet again, then pushed the thought down to focus on the conversation.

“Fitz,” Hand continued, “I was thinking about what you mentioned the other day, about wanting some new responsibility or a change in pace.”

“Yeah,” he said cautiously. He had kind of been thinking a new project to head up, a new lab, maybe, one that wasn’t _haunted_ by his ex-wi…former partner. 

“This is Isabelle Hartley. She’s been selected to lead a new field team and is looking for a scientist.”

Fitz looked at Xena again, and swallowed nervously. Perhaps the most unsettling part was that he didn’t immediately say no.

_The Playground, Early November, 2014_

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Fitz asked, popping his head into Coulson’s office and nodding a greeting at Skye sitting on the opposite side of the desk.

“Yeah,” Coulson replied, barely sparing him a glance. “I need you to go down to the cell and check everything’s working properly. I want to have full control over the barrier this afternoon in case something goes wrong and we have to react fast.”

“Goes wrong with what?” Fitz asked, looking between Coulson and Skye curiously. 

“We’re transferring Ward to his brother.”

“Oh. OK,” he said, shrugging. He knew vaguely that there was a prisoner in the basement that Skye interrogated sometimes, and he knew that he was the brother of the warmongering senator on TV, so he assumed Coulson was up to something that would get Congress off S.H.I.E.L.D.’s back. Seemed like a good idea, really.

He pushed off the doorframe and started walking toward the cell. Moments later, he heard his name and turned, slightly slowing his pace until Skye caught up.

“Be careful, OK. Ward can be…tricky.”

Fitz smiled. Skye was rabidly protective of the whole team so he was glad she seemed to still like him even after learning of his history with her best friend. 

“Don’t worry; I’m not going to open the barrier or anything. Just need to check different settings.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean he knows how to get inside your head, you know?”

“He doesn’t know anything about me,” Fitz responded, brows furrowing in confusion. “And why would he bother?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Skye answered, “and because he’s an evil dick. Look, there’s something you should know about Ward and – and what he did to Jemma and Donnie.”

\---

Skye’s warning had the opposite effect of what she most likely intended, because the first thing Fitz did when he got downstairs was make the barrier transparent so he could look him in the eye. The man on the other side rose from the cot, tilting his head curiously as if he could recognize but couldn’t quite place Fitz. And then he smiled.

“Ah, Leo Fitz. So nice to finally meet you.”

Fitz didn’t respond.

“Garrett actually wanted to recruit you, did you know? Unfortunately, Isabelle Hartley got her claws in you first.”

Fitz scoffed, offering him a half-smirk to indicate exactly how he would have responded to any attempt to entice him to Hydra. He turned away then, beginning to run the program through its paces and ignoring Ward to show how little concern he was actually worth.

That ended up being somewhat difficult when Ward spoke again. “Your work is amazing, by the way. I think you’ve killed more people for Hydra than I have.”

Fitz nearly dropped the tablet. He could feel his blood begin to boil, and he suddenly had trouble breathing. After a moment, however, he forced himself to finish the diagnostics with no reply.

“As I understand,” Ward observed, his tone obnoxiously pleasant, “Jemma – ”

“Don’t call her that,” he ordered reflexively.

He could hear the smile in Ward’s tone as he continued, “ _Jemma_ was particularly…affected by your contributions to the Centipede research program.”

Fitz froze. All he could see was red. And then all he could see was one particular section on the tablet screen. He turned to face Ward.

“You know, I heard some stories about you too. Something about…” He pressed the down button several times. “A med pod.”

Ward started gasping. “What – what – what are you doing?”

Turning the tablet to show him, Fitz stepped closer to the barrier. He felt strangely menacing, almost possessed, and he didn’t care. “Do you know what happens when you’re deprived of oxygen? The brain cells, they react first. They die. Three minutes, damage is permanent.”

Ward’s expression was openly scared, and it struck Fitz that this was how it happened, how people who considered themselves to be good and decent could cross that line. He had killed in self-defense, he had killed accidentally, he had killed indirectly. But if he let this go on any longer, he will have killed deliberately and in cold blood. 

The thought of Jemma and Donnie on the ocean floor, scared, facing death, injured and betrayed. The realization that she might have died and he would have never even known what happened to her, never would have been able to bury her body. It was almost enough to provoke him over that line. But the thought of how she might look at him differently if he did, how every little choice he made had seemed to separate them more and more, how the things he was keeping from her already were enough to lose her more than he already had, lose her forever, even before adding something like this to the equation. That was enough to make him bring the tablet up again and restore full function to the atmosphere controls.

He turned and headed toward the stairs. He was almost to the door before Ward found his voice again.

“Honestly,” he said with a small cough. “I gave her a fighting chance to find a way out; I saved her that day. I figured you’d be more upset about what Trip did – or does – with her.”

Fitz turned to face him, not revealing the realizations that statement was prompting as he glared at Ward, and then he left the room.

His glare had been nothing, though, compared to the one Jemma shot Ward as he was escorted past Skye and her on the way out of the base. He watched as Jemma stepped in front of her friend and threatened Ward’s life. It scared Fitz when he realized that Ward believed her – and so did he.


	5. Chapter 5

_Jemma Simmons’ Dorm, S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy of Science and Technology, Late September, 2004_

Jemma tilted her head down to watch Fitz for a while, then smiled up at the ceiling. Truthfully, whenever he went to town on her breasts, she mostly just let him do his thing. They weren’t particularly sensitive, but she knew he really liked them a lot and relationships were give-and-take after all. Besides, sometimes she still got a little nervous about asking him for things when she wasn’t turned on enough yet or Fitz hadn’t teased or outright provoked her enough yet. And it wasn’t like she _hated_ it; it was fine. She just enjoyed his own enjoyment more than any sensation it gave her.

She sighed and shifted a bit, scratching at her eyebrow and then letting her hand fall on the pillow next to her head. That was when his head popped up, and Jemma made a face at the feel of cool air on her wet nipple. 

“Everything OK?”

Jemma smiled, maybe a bit too widely, and nodded, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. Fitz frowned.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“No! No, it’s just…my breasts don’t really do a whole lot for me. Never have.”

“Oh.” 

He looked down again and Jemma oddly almost burst into laughter at the disappointment on his face. He seemed as if he were saying goodbye to them forever. 

“It’s OK, Fitz. I know you like playing with them, so I like that too. I just…I’ll need, you know, more elsewhere before we…um…”

“Have sex,” he supplied, waggling his eyebrows as he looked up at her. “Which we’re gonna do. Now.”

Jemma rolled her eyes at the ceiling.

“We are still gonna have sex, right?”

“Yes, Fitz.”

“OK. Because, you know, we can stop at any time.”

“I don’t want to stop. I just…”

“Want me to stop. With the boobs.”

“Good Lord, why do I love you?”

Fitz snickered. “I don’t know, but please don’t start really questioning it until after we lose our virginities.”

“Oh, Fitz. Virginity is a social const – ”

“Construct, yes, you’ve said. So can we hurry up with that rite of passage? Because I’m feeling very liminal right now and – ”

“And wow, you are way more articulate than I want you to be so let’s carry on, shall we?”

Fitz grinned and nodded. “So, when you say more elsewhere…”

Jemma tried not to blush but his tone was far too knowing. “Kissing’s great,” she suggested in an attempt to deflect. “More kissing. And you know, my…neck, belly, thighs. Um…down, down there.”

Jemma gasped when his thumb pressed against her _down there_ , and his eyebrows rose high on his forehead as he fought another smile. She felt a little shaky as he started to circle over it and his other fingers teased lower. She gripped his biceps and her mouth fell open in a little O and she couldn’t look away from him. 

“Down here?” he asked, voice rough enough to send another jolt through her.

Jenna nodded, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Say it,” he requested.

“My clit,” she breathed out. “And v… _oh, there_.”

“V…agina?” 

Jemma opened her eyes again and shook her head. “Vulva, Fitz. Giving you an anatomy lesson after this.”

He buried his face against her neck, half-groaning and half-chuckling. “Gonna give _you_ a dirty talk lesson after this.”

Jemma laughed, even as she placed her hands on his shoulders and forced him back up. When they made eye contact, she spoke, letting her voice get all sultry and demanding. “Eat out my pussy and then fuck me.”

He turned bright red in shocked arousal and then hurried to do just that. Admittedly, Jemma enjoyed certain parts of the process more than others – virginity might be a social construct, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable to lose – but overall it was a very satisfying, memorable experience.

_The Playground, Early November, 2014_

“It induces theta brain wave frequencies,” Donnie explained, his voice crackling over the rather weak cell connection between the Playground and the Sandbox, “and essentially uncovers memories in the subconscious.”

Fitz frowned, arms crossed over his chest, not particularly pleased with what he was hearing. 

“It’s more than that,” Jemma clarified. “These aren’t just latent memories. They were deliberately…”

“Deleted?” Mack offered, when Jemma couldn’t seem to find the best way to phrase it.

“No,” Jemma and Fitz spoke at the same time, then Fitz added, “Brains never delete files.”

“They just lose connections,” Jemma continued. “But there’s always a backup.”

“Just a matter of digging and finding them,” Fitz finished.

Mack looked back and forth between them, the moment of silence stretching out, and then he said, “Uh-huh.”

“So, I’ll walk you through the experiments I did on it back when we first got hold of the machine,” Donnie offered, sounding strangely amused. “But – are you sure you have no other option? Jemma, you remember what it did to him.”

Fitz shared a brief concerned look with Mack.

“He’s insistent,” Jemma replied. 

Donnie sighed. “OK.” 

The conversation lasted longer than it probably needed to, with the three of them slipping into old patterns, talking over each other and going off on tangents that no one else could hope to follow. Eventually, though, Coulson broke through the comms with a pointed request for an update. 

“I think we’re ready, sir,” Jemma confirmed.

Coulson hung up without another word. Fitz suddenly felt awkward, now that they were no longer in the thick of a scientific discussion, and he didn’t want to examine too closely the way his heart was racing from the little smiles and glances Jemma had been sending him. And he certainly wasn’t going to acknowledge the half-knowing, half-apprehensive expression on Mack’s face. 

“So, anyway,” Donnie said, “nice talking to you, Fitz. Glad to hear you’re doing well.”

“You too,” Fitz replied, unable to stop his smile. “Exactly how quickly did you jump on Coulson’s offer to head up the team there?”

“Pretty sure he didn’t even finish the sentence. Run my own lab without Mom and Dad trying to control everything? Yes, please. Plus there’s all the resources I need to conduct experiments on, you know, myself.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Another thing we’ll have to talk about sometime,” Fitz observed, ignoring the sting of the Mom and Dad comment while shooting a quick glance at Mack to see if he’d caught the implicit significance in Donnie’s statement. “You’re doing OK, right?”

“Getting there, I think. I’ll let you guys get to work.”

“Take care of yourself, Donnie,” Jemma commanded. “We don’t have any reason to believe Ward will go after you or the Sandbox, but you never know.”

“I’ve already increased security here, don’t worry, and with people we can trust. Hydra won’t take this base again.”

Coulson interrupted them again then, this time in person. Soon enough, Skye had joined them and they began the procedure. Coulson writhed and screamed, turning violent and lashing out at the others as Mack tried to hold him down. Thankfully, they were able to access the memories they needed and solved the mystery of the writing, but not without some more crises including Skye being locked in the cell and Coulson running off on a mad mission of his own.

Later, Mack found Fitz in the conference room. Fitz looked around to make sure no one else was in hearing range and then leaned closer. 

“Stealing bodies, talking about aliens and bringing the dead back to life. What kind of creature feature did we sign up for?” Mack asked, quiet and gruff.

“He seems all right now.”

“Yeah, but how long will that last? He was out of his mind, and who knows what else Fury did to him?”

Fitz sighed, looking off to the side. “Jemma trusts him.”

“That might be enough for you, Turbo. I need more.”

Fitz acknowledged that with a slight nod.

“What’s the deal with that Donnie kid?”

“What do you mean?” Fitz felt nervous and incredibly protective.

“Why’s he doing experiments on himself?”

“Oh. I don’t know. I mean, I heard some stuff from Skye but…it’s probably nothing to worry about.”

Fitz was pretty sure Gonzales and Calderon wouldn’t agree with that assessment, but he kept his face as straight as possible. Mack hummed but dropped the topic, and Fitz excused himself shortly after.

_Providence Base, Mid April, 2014_

Jemma couldn’t shake the feeling of being a criminal. She supposed being hunted by the government and getting strapped in for an interrogation would do that to a person. Trip, who had just passed with flying colors, was helping Koenig connect the sensors to her. He sent her a supportive smile, with maybe just a hint of now-innocent flirtation, and while she appreciated the effort, she couldn’t smile back. The last several days had been too long, painful, and tiring, and deep down she knew breaking things off with him had been the right thing to do. She didn’t want him, never would, no matter how hard she tried. The only person she wanted right then, and ever, was…but that wasn’t possible.

Trip left then and Koenig began asking the questions. She tried to be honest, upbeat, tried to project innocence. She thought she was doing fine.

“Have you ever been married?” Koenig asked.

She felt paralyzed. A moment later, she blinked, but still couldn’t speak.

“Agent Simmons?”

“Yes?”

Koenig hesitated. “Was that your answer or – ”

“Oh, sorry. I meant…yes. Yes, I am – was married.”

Koenig looked at the output on his screen and nodded. “Please list your immediate family.”

Fitz. 

But that wasn’t the right answer anymore, was it? “My parents and brother,” she supplied, then breathed out slowly as Koenig continued to question her.

_The Playground, Mid November, 2014_

“I’m surprised she’s so civil,” Jemma observed, trying to sound detached from the proceedings Mack and Fitz were watching over the monitor. Ward’s little present had been a surprise, to say the least.

“Want to see his head bashed in?”

“That would be wrong, wouldn’t it?” 

OK, maybe that wasn’t quite so detached. She couldn’t help it. Bakshi made her skin crawl, and she still had nightmares sometimes thinking about the things he might have done to her if he had discovered her true allegiance while she had been working undercover. Jemma inhaled and let the breath out slowly, but it didn’t calm her. Then Bakshi looked directly at the camera, and it felt like he could see through it, like he was focusing on her, and she had to get out of the room.

She wasn’t even really sure where she was going and didn’t pay attention to the path she took. Her escape was interrupted soon enough, however, and she stopped to face Fitz when he called out her name. For a moment, she was surprised to see her subconscious had taken her to the garage – perhaps some sort of attempt to go someplace she knew would be empty since Mack was in the conference room, but she suspected she was actually heading for the Bus and the old lab and a feeling of safety. 

“You OK?” Fitz asked. 

“Yes,” she answered quickly.

“You’re a terrible liar. I don’t know how you fooled them all there for so long.”

“Maybe I’m getting better at it.”

“Maybe you never were all that bad, as long as the other person wanted to believe the lies.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, never mind.”

Jemma’s eyes widened as she began to understand. He wasn’t wrong, of course. She had kept things from him, but it had been to protect him, to make things easier, not to – 

“It’s hard to figure things out, that’s all,” he said, sounding frustrated, as if he wished he could stop the conversation, and cagey, almost as if he were feeling guilty about something himself. “Sometimes I think that we’re learning how to work together again, and then other times I can’t even begin to understand why you told Coulson to hire me. Sometimes I think you’re still the same person I knew, and sometimes you’re this…total badass, going undercover at Hydra and lying like it’s nothing.”

Jemma nodded sadly. “I’m different now. We both are. I’m…sorry to hear you don’t like who I’ve become. I’ve always valued your – ”

She broke off in confusion at the dumbfounded expression on his face as he shook his head.

“God, no. I think the problem is I like it a little too much. There isn’t a single part of you I don’t like, that hasn’t changed.”

When she didn’t respond, he looked away, a pained expression appearing on his face. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have – ”

Jemma shut him up with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, finally flirting with the rating. Also, in case it wasn’t clear, I did age Donnie up by a few years in this. Not because I wanted there to be any truth behind Fitz’ paranoia but because I wanted there to be interactions with someone who had history with them and “knew them when” and Donnie seemed like a great choice. But, obviously he wouldn’t have been working at S.H.I.E.L.D. at age 13 or whatever, so…still several years younger than them but a little older than in canon.


	6. Chapter 6

_The Playground, Mid November, 2014_

To say the conversation had taken an unexpected turn was an understatement. He had wanted to follow after Jemma to make sure she was handling the Bakshi thing as well as possible. The next thing he knew they were practically fighting again, but then the next thing after that she was sucking his face. Maybe part of him was still desperate to know if Ward had been telling the truth with his comment about Trip, but he wasn’t about to stop this to find out because the vast majority of him was simply desperate to get her over to and inside the SUV on the other side of the garage.

They slammed into the rear door rather awkwardly, little _oofs_ of surprise interspersing with moans and slurping sounds of uncoordinated lips. Fitz reached behind himself, finding the door handle after several failed attempts. They nearly fell inside, twisting around and pushing and pulling each other along the seat until they were inside entirely. Fitz moved to wrap his arms around her and sink down onto her, but she broke the kiss and propped herself up to look over his shoulder.

Fitz actually whined.

“The door.”

He sat up. “OK. I’ve got it.”

He managed to lean over far enough to hook the handle with the tips of his fingers. He pulled it shut and then moved to return to Jemma again.

“Lock it.”

Fitz exhaled sharply, turning away again. “Right.”

When that was done, he could finally face Jemma again, and the last few functioning brain cells in his head gave up the fight because she already had her top off and was working on kicking off her jeans and pants too. He slid towards her, hands gliding along the seat, but she stopped him with a single, heated look. 

Fitz’ mouth fell open, going a little dry from his rapid breathing, as she placed one hand on his chest and pushed him back, maneuvering him until he sat normally on the seat. He let out an embarrassing sort of whimper when she straddled him, completely naked except for her bra. She didn’t look away for a second, even as her hands trailed down to his lap, brushed against his rock hard erection, and then grabbed his shirt by the hem. Fitz got the message and yanked it over his head. 

She stared at him for a while, and Fitz inwardly preened a bit, knowing that his time in the field had changed him. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be quite the specimen that Mack or – or Trip was, but he wasn’t the scrawny little kid she first met either. 

“You look different,” she whispered, smirking a bit as she repeated his observation from a couple weeks ago. “Not bad different, just…”

Fitz didn’t let her finish, choosing instead to capture her in another kiss. Almost unconsciously, he lifted a hand to her breast, sliding his hand over the fabric of her bra and squeezing softly. Her breath shuddered against his mouth, and Fitz pulled back, surprised. 

“Since when does that – ”

Jemma seemed almost embarrassed by her reaction, and she shook her head quickly even as she reached behind herself to unhook and remove her bra.

“Hormones or something, OK? They’re overly sensitive right now. It has nothing to do with you.”

The sudden realization that it probably had everything to do with him made him grin.

“Shut up,” Jemma added, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling him closer until his face landed right between her breasts.

He wasn’t about to complain about that, so he just dragged his mouth across her sternum and onto one fleshy mound. Jemma groaned, arching her back to press her chest closer to him, and Fitz smiled against her skin.

“My nipple, Fitz,” she demanded.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Do that thing with your tongue.”

“’Kay.”

“Don’t bite.”

“Yes, I know!” he nearly shouted, pulling away in frustration, wishing she’d just let him get on with it already.

Jemma chuckled throatily, and Fitz nearly came on the spot. “You like it when I’m bossy,” she reminded him.

He wasn’t able to respond because she forced his head to her again. He latched on, sucking with alternating degrees of pressure and lapping at her nipple with the rough flat surface of his tongue. She cried out sharply, the noise cutting off and then turning into a high-pitched whine as he lifted his free hand to her other breast and began to fondle it. 

Her hips were rolling wildly, erratically, over his lap. His trousers had to be rough against her bare skin but she didn’t seem to notice, probably even enjoyed it judging by the way she dragged her clit over the seam of his zip and the ridge of his cock. Her wetness was beginning to dampen the fabric, and the restriction was far too uncomfortable anyway, and so he moved his hands down, blindly unfastening and freeing himself.

Her hands tangled with his and began to jack him off. Fitz bucked up in surprise, swearing softly around her and then pulling his mouth away. 

“Warn a guy,” he scolded with a laugh.

She didn’t bother responding, just rested her forehead against his and breathed out roughly as she continued to stroke him, to seek out friction, to tantalize him with her wet heat.

“You still on the pill?” he choked out.

She paused, causing his heart to stop, and then nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. “Yes. Yeah, but…are you…did you…have you been with…”

“Oh!” He shook his head rather frantically. “No. No one.”

“Oh. Good. Um, me neither.”

He nearly punched a fist in the air in relieved victory. Didn’t know why he’d listened to Ward anyway, really. 

“So…we’re good like this?”

Jemma looked at him then, her expression soft for a moment before it turned sensual. “Very good,” she confirmed. 

And then – holy shit – she was lowering onto him, slow but steady, not stopping until he was inside her to the hilt. Then she paused for a long beat. Fitz eventually opened his eyes and stared at her. Her mouth was open but her eyes were closed, lids fluttering in pleasure and little muscles in her face twitching. She blinked then, looking at him, and a wide smile grew across her face. She reached her hands out to his shoulders, using him for balance as she raised herself up again and began to ride him slowly.

She whimpered in pleasure, in frustration, shifting around trying to find just the right angle. Fitz lifted his hands, cupped them over her cheeks and gazed at her, admiring the way her hair streamed out over his fingers.

“It’s OK,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. Just let go.”

He tilted his hips, trying to help her find the spot she was searching for, even as he sat up and pulled her closer to him. He hugged her tightly, letting his forehead rest near her clavicle and looking down to watch where they came together and pulled apart.

“There,” Jemma exclaimed. 

Fitz grinned, repositioning his body slightly to get extra strength and pulling her down onto him again and again just the way she wanted. Her head dropped back, leaving him with the view of her throat stretched and exposed, and after only several thrusts, she shouted loudly as she peaked in pleasure. Fitz rather involuntarily came almost immediately and it was some time before either one of them had the wherewithal to say anything. Even then, Jemma’s statement came as something of a surprise.

“I can’t believe you’ve barely begun to get soft yet,” she observed, almost sounding impressed. 

Fitz looked down, eyebrow arching, as he assessed the situation. “Yeah, that’s…what? That’s weird. Has nothing to do with you, shut up.”

Jemma laughed, then deliberately rolled her hips. Fitz hissed in response, the fingers of one hand clawing against her lower back. 

“Pretty sensitive, though,” he muttered. 

Jemma grinned. “I just don’t think we should look a gift horse in the mouth is all.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Are you saying I’m hung like a horse?”

Jemma’s laughter turned into a rather pleased shriek as Fitz moved suddenly, lifting her enough to flip them over and lay her down underneath him. He rested one knee farther back on the seat and braced the other foot on the floor of the seat well. Using the new leverage, he rocked into her, intent on taking advantage of the lingering hardness as best and as long as he could. 

“Oh God,” Jemma moaned, tilting up to meet him. 

Her hair fanned out on the seat. There was a flush across her cheekbones and splotching on her chest, and she bit her lip in an unsuccessful attempt to stifle the noises she made. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

He buried his face in the dark groove by her neck, thrusting into her, pressing down to increase the friction, relishing in the feel of her hands kneading his arse, pulling him closer and deeper. And then suddenly she cried out, orgasm striking her again, her walls clenching around his cock and causing him to twitch and jerk in a feeble attempt to join her. 

He moaned, unable to move for a long while. Ultimately, he needed to pull out, and when he finally did, he looked down to watch the whole time. Some feeling of machismo or possessiveness thrilled at the sight of the wetness coating both of them. He wanted to taste her, wanted to soothe her with his tongue. Maybe it was just desperation to make this time together last just a bit longer. 

“I want to go down on you,” he murmured. “Make you come again.”

Jemma’s fingers threaded into his hair, prompting him to meet her eyes. 

“Please, no,” she said softly. “I can’t again, not right now. Too much.”

He nodded, feeling disappointed. 

“Save it for next time,” she added impishly, and his eyebrows raised high. 

“Next time? _Presumptuous_.”

Jemma laughed. “Oh, Fitz. I think we both know there’s gonna be a next time.”

He didn’t know exactly what this all meant, and definitely didn’t want to ask and risk it all. So, instead of letting her see him get all emotional, he just smoothed her hair off her forehead and gave her a fast, hard, closed-mouthed kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

_FitzSimmons’ Flat, Early July, 2013_

Jemma breathed out slowly, then knocked on the door. It felt strange, waiting to be allowed into a place she still, at least partly, considered home. But it wasn’t her home anymore, and it probably would never be again. That was still hard to accept but –

The door opened and Fitz stared back at her, clearly shocked. “Jemma,” he finally managed. 

She forced a smile, albeit a very weak one. “Hello, Fitz.”

“What – what – ”

She couldn’t quite gauge his reaction. There was surprise, of course, but also relief and happiness to see her mixed in with awkwardness and confusion and still, understandably she supposed, resentment. Her own swirling emotions made his harder to read, and a part of her just wanted to get this done and over with. She didn’t really expect him to say yes, obviously, which was why she already had spoken to Donnie. But she had to try. She had to know for sure.

“May I come in, please?” she asked, as politely as possible.

“Yes! Yes, of course.” 

He shook his head at himself, stepping back quickly to allow her into the flat and closing the door behind her. She couldn’t help but smile at the way he rested his hands on his lower back as he turned to her. She opened her mouth to speak then, but he beat her to it with a bumbling attempt at breaking the ice.

“How – how was the training program? Anyone in Operations capable of stringing three words together into a sentence?”

His smirk was wry but forced. Jemma wanted to make it easier for him somehow, wanted to…but she couldn’t stand there and make small talk. Couldn’t pretend that any comments she made about the last year she had spent training wouldn’t twist the knife deeper. 

“Fitz,” she began, soldiering on despite the wary look he gave her in response. 

“Do you want something to drink? Sit down, I’ll – ” He spoke quickly, already moving towards the kitchen.

“Fitz.” He stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn to face her again. Jemma inhaled deeply, then continued, “I don’t know how to say this really, so I’m just going to say it.”

He whispered something that sounded like _please don’t_ but she forced herself on. She had to try.

“I wanted…to ask if you’d be willing…if you’d considered…if you wanted…God.”

Fitz faced her then, hope dawning on his face, and she allowed herself to believe that he might actually say yes. Silence stretched out for a long moment, broken only by their harsh breathing. 

“Jemma?”

“There’s a spot on the team for an engineer,” she said in a rush, “and it’s yours if you want it.”

Whatever he’d been hoping for, that clearly hadn’t been it. His face fell, and Jemma felt her own heart break as she accepted that her predictions had been right. He’d never agree to go. And she still needed to.

“You’re still going to the field?” he asked quietly. “I thought you meant…never mind, it doesn’t matter what I thought.”

Jemma’s face crumpled as she fought tears. “Why won’t you even – ”

“Why won’t you just tell me?” he exploded, interrupting her. “Tell me what it is I did, what horrible thing I – I don’t understand. What changed? Why don’t you – ?” 

He broke off, turning away and shaking his head, his hands returning to his hips. Jemma sobbed once before stifling the emotion again. She lifted a hand to rub at her face quickly.

“It’s not about you, Fitz! I’ve told you that so many times. I’ve tried to explain. I, I need this. I need something new, something different, something to make up for – ”

“Something not me. Don’t give me that ‘it’s not you’ crap because you’re throwing away _everything_ we’ve built together the last nine years, everything we could have in the future, and that feels pretty goddamn personal.”

Jemma looked away, breath shuddering, wishing she could tell him everything but knowing how much more painful it would make this for him, how it wouldn’t change the fact that the life she was trying to let go of was the one he was trying to cling to and neither of them would be happy if she stayed or if he came. 

She shook her head, blinking rapidly. “OK, it was worth a try,” she observed, resigned to the inevitable. “Donnie’s already accepted the position if you didn’t want it, so…”

He gaped at her, clearly horrified. “Donnie? My Donnie?”

“What other Donnie?”

“Are you… Are you two…?”

Jemma rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Do you _want_ to – ”

“I’ve never wanted anyone but you, Fitz!”

They stared at each other, eyes flashing with emotion, chests heaving for breath. And then Fitz took two large steps across the room and pulled her into his arms. It was the first time they kissed in about a year, and Jemma never wanted to stop again. She moaned, letting out quick little pants as his lips moved across her jaw and down her neck, his open, wet mouth searing her skin with the heat and force of his passion. 

“Oh God,” Jemma whispered, reaching one hand up to grasp the back of his head, mourning the loss of the curls he had cut off sometime since she’d last seen him. And then, “Oh God, oh God, oh _God_ ,” as he urgently pushed her backwards until she hit the wall. 

She lifted her leg, hooking the knee around his hip and opening herself up enough for him to grind against her. He was already hard and she could feel her own arousal escalating, her muscles starting to tighten rhythmically in anticipation and a slick wetness pooling in her pants. One of his hands went to her breast, groped her roughly, pinched at the nipple, almost as if he wanted to take everything he could get from her, everything he missed, even while punishing her by ignoring her own desires, her own needs, all the places she’d rather feel his touch. 

And then suddenly, he switched tactics. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he pulled down her clothes with a sharp jerk and immediately leaned closer to place his mouth on her. She could almost hear him thinking _Remember this? This is what you could have whenever you wanted, if only you stayed._

It wasn’t enough, or maybe it was too much, and Jemma’s hands scrabbled against his shoulders, pulling at his collar until he stood again. She reached down, making quick work of his belt buckle and trouser fastenings, exposing his cock just briefly before brushing her folds over it and taking him inside her. Fitz groaned, crowding up against her again, plastering his whole body along hers as he rocked in an ever faster rhythm. Jemma cried out, clinging to him, fighting against the longing until she lost control and the words slipped out.

His hips faltered as he registered what she hadn’t meant to say, and then started moving again with a renewed purpose. 

“Me too,” he grunted. “I love you too.”

Jemma pressed her eyes shut, turning her head to the side as she fought futilely against the waves of pleasure threatening to drown her. And then she couldn’t stop.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whimpered, a mantra rising in pitch and volume with her orgasm.

The first of many that night.

\---

It had been a long time since Fitz woke up feeling so damn sore and so damn satisfied. He grinned into his pillow as he remembered, and then he realized what had woken him. Someone was moving around the bedroom. Someone was there. _Jemma_ was there. He rolled over, still smiling, prepared to offer to cook her breakfast or better yet see if they could go for some kind of record for number of sex acts in 24 hours.

His smile turned into a frown as he realized she had one of the suitcases out – one of the set they’d bought for their honeymoon but hadn’t had a chance to use too much after that – and was packing up some clothes pushed to the back of the closet that he’d never been able to get rid of but had never been able to tolerate seeing. 

He sat up quickly, trying to ignore the love bites and fingernail scratches all over his chest when the falling blankets revealed them.

“What are you doing?” 

She jumped in surprise, then spared him a quick glance before looking away again. “Just…just finally clearing the rest of this stuff out.”

“To…make room for new stuff you bought this year?” he asked, aiming for hopeful instead of combative. 

Jemma paused in her movements and then started packing again. “You can keep everything else, of course. The mobile command unit should have everything I’d need and – ”

“You’re still leaving,” he said out loud, just to confirm it. “Last night – ”

“Last night didn’t change anything, Fitz. I still want to go into the field. If you’d stop being such a stubborn ass – ”

He tossed the blankets away, climbing off the bed and pulling on his discarded clothes. He ran his fingers through his hair in lieu of actual grooming, wanting to escape as fast as possible. He had made it to the front door by the time she spoke again. 

“Fitz, please.”

“I hate you for this, Jemma,” he said, barely loud enough for her to hear him. He did hear her sob, though, but didn’t turn to look at her. “I think I was almost ready to…accept it and move on. But you came here last night. _You_ came to me, and yet you still won’t…”

He faced her then, heart breaking and yet hardening as he watched her cry. He didn’t understand how she could be so upset and yet still so determined. He didn’t know which was the truth. 

“Just remember,” he continued, voice cracking, unsure if he was trying to guilt her or trying to give her the out she obviously needed and couldn’t bring herself to say, “you gave up on me, on us. You left.”

She took a deep breath, pressed her lips together, and nodded. “I know. I…think it’s for the best.”

He stared at her for one more beat, waiting for something _more_. When it didn’t come, he turned away again, grabbing his keys from the small table and pulling open the door.

“Tell yourself that if you have to,” he replied. “I have to go to work. Gonna be busy, I guess, since now I’m the only one there.”

He could sense her wanting to speak, maybe even stop him, but she didn’t in the end. He stepped into the hall and slammed the door shut. He hesitated for a moment, leaning back against the door and flinching at the contact with some of the overtaxed parts of his body. 

He didn’t actually make it to work that day. Instead, he wandered around the city, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched. When he finally returned home, she was gone. There was no sign she had even been there, except for the ring sitting on the center of the coffee table. When he saw it, he actually stumbled and dropped to his knees, feeling like he had been physically hit, like he was about to vomit. He curled over, wrapping his arms around his stomach and unable to breathe for a moment before the sob tore through him.


	8. Chapter 8

_The Bus, Early December, 2014_

Fitz pressed the button on the clock, checked the time and slammed his fist down on the table. He spun his chair around and blew out a frustrated breath.

“Hey!” Skye interrupted. “Whatever you’re doing, just take a break…what are you doing?”

Fitz shook his head and focused on the transceiver again. He tried to ignore Trip as he entered the room, tried to remind himself that Jemma hadn’t slept with him, tried to remember that he’d actually been rather friendly with Trip before learning of the brief “flirtation” with his ex-wife-slash-current…something with benefits. But this was the first time he’d been on a mission with Trip since he’d found out and it was the first time he’d been on a mission with Coulson since seeing him lose it in that memory machine, and neither one of those things was making him feel particularly level-headed. And considering level-headedness wasn’t something he was known for in stressful situations, six minutes to put together a transceiver seemed pretty damn impossible.

“Coulson has me patching a transceiver into a system that’s not even meant to handle one.”

“You can do that in your sleep.”

Fitz shrugged petulantly. “I think Coulson’s testing me – or just keeping me busy.”

“Nah, man,” Trip disagreed, laughing just enough to make Fitz glare more. “Coulson doesn’t roll that way. If he has you in the dark, it’s for a reason.”

Fitz couldn’t help but think of another dangerous mission on another S.H.I.E.L.D. craft, of another man leading a group of agents, of everyone agreeing it was long past time for them to make their own choices and have a say in what they work for and risk their lives for and possibly even kill for. S.H.I.E.L.D. and practically the whole world had been destroyed by secrets and it was company men like Coulson who wanted to keep that going. Jemma was just too close to see it.

Or maybe she had seen enough for Coulson to have earned her loyalty. Maybe Fitz was just being stubbornly dedicated to the people he had been at the front lines with. Maybe he should learn to trust Jemma and her judgment again. Fitz sighed, ignored the others, and focused on his task once more.

\---

At the small moan, Fitz pushed off his seat and moved closer to the couch where Trip half-slept.

“Hey, don’t move too much, OK? Don’t want to pull those stitches.”

Trip just groaned again, then focused somewhat glassy eyes on Fitz. “We get it done?”

“Yeah,” Fitz confirmed, trying to speak soothingly. “We got it done.”

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Patching me up.”

“Eh, it’s not gonna be the most professional looking scar. Hard to be a good field medic when you nearly pass out at the sight of blood.” 

Trip returned Fitz’ smile, albeit weakly. “ ’s OK. Chicks dig scars.”

Fitz looked away, nodding slowly. “So I hear.” Before Trip could respond, he continued, “So…thanks to you too. For, you know, having my back in there.”

Trip laughed, groaning immediately and shifting at the pain. “You kidding? Gunshot’s nothing compared to Simmons. Would not want to be the one responsible for getting you shot.”

“Don’t think she’d appreciate me bringing you back in a body bag either.”

“Things we do for women, huh?”

Fitz nodded, laughing. “The things we do for women.”

A throat clearing interrupted them and both men looked over. Coulson leaned in through the door, the same blood stains on his sleeves that were on Fitz’. He watched them both with a strange sort of expression. If Fitz knew what fatherly pride actually looked like, he’d be tempted to call it that.

“Trip, how are you?”

“Never better, captain my captain.”

“Fitz, good job out there today.”

Fitz nodded once, feeling warmth slide through him at the praise. He guessed Coulson wasn’t all that bad.

_S.H.I.E.L.D. Hangar, Somewhere in the Midwest, March, 2014_

She knew that Garrett and Coulson hadn’t arranged their missions so both teams were grounded in the same small town at the same time. But it had seemed serendipitous enough to agree to the offer of a dinner date.

She knew that social norms frowned upon inviting a man into your bedroom – or bunk, as the case may be – after only one date and a handful of flirty glances. But it wasn’t like their jobs allowed for traditional relationship stages.

She knew that she should be enjoying herself a lot more than she was. He certainly was a good kisser, and those muscles felt good beneath her hands, and it had been far too long since she had someone else’s hands on her own body. After she closed the door, he had lifted her high enough for her to wrap her legs around his waist and then carried her to the bed, kissing her the whole way. It was incredibly hot and like something out of a movie. Being with someone so much bigger than her, so strong and tall – 

Was awful. 

She liked Trip so much. He was wonderful, clever and funny and attractive. He really seemed to like her and appreciate her brain and her compassion as well as her looks. And she tried to convince herself, as she curled tighter into his embrace and deepened the kiss, that this was the beginning of something. That of course it would feel different, that of course she would be hesitant about kissing someone else, even feel like she was cheating, but she wasn’t, because she was free to kiss anyone she wanted and it would get easier with experience and familiarity. That she wanted it to get easier, because she liked Trip _so_ much.

“Stop, please stop,” she whispered, pushing Trip’s shoulder.

He backed away immediately, concerned and respectful, and she felt even worse. 

“Everything OK?”

“Y – No,” Jemma sighed, sitting up. She couldn’t face him, and she fought tears as she pressed her fingers to her forehead. “No, I’m sorry – I – ”

Trip sat up then too, placing one hand on her back and rubbing softly, waiting. 

“It’s not you,” Jemma stressed, even as she cringed at the cliché. “I know how that sounds, but it’s really not. It’s me. I just…”

“Hey, it’s OK.”

She faced him, surprised at how well he seemed to be taking it. She wondered if he was really even all that into her. And then she felt selfish for that, because she was the one who led him on. He was so cool and collected about everything; why should this be any different?

“I’m not in the right place for a relationship,” she explained further. “And I’m not someone who can do…this when I’m not in a relationship.”

Trip nodded. “I understand. Besides, it’s not like we’d really be able to have anything more than that, considering our jobs.”

“Yeah, I guess – I guess being in the field isn’t very conducive to successful, healthy commitments,” she acknowledged, laughing a little painfully. 

Maybe Fitz had been right to be wary. Maybe him coming with her wouldn’t have fixed anything. Maybe she had just been running away. 

“Nah,” Trip agreed. “But it’s great for perspective. You learn not to hold grudges and to value the people who have your back, no matter what.”

Jemma smiled, taking the chance to lean against his chest. It really _was_ a nice chest. She sighed. “Is that your way of saying you’re still willing to be my friend?”

“Try and stop me.”

_The Playground, Early December, 2014_

“Simmons?”

“Oh, Agent Morse, what can I do for you?”

“Well, first, you can call me Bobbi,” she replied, smiling broadly. 

Jemma felt a little embarrassed and maybe even a little uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure she knew the other agent well enough to be on a first name basis. She would like to get to know her better, of course. She knew from watching Fitz with Agent Mo – _Bobbi_ and Mack that the three of them were close. Part of her still couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea that Fitz had actually gone into the field. Truth be told, she was still bitter about it, but she was trying to move past that. He made the decisions that were right for him when they were right for him, just like she had. Anyway, he was good friends with the two of them, and Fitz was very loyal to and very selective of the people he let into his heart, so they must be great. 

“Bobbi,” she finally said, smiling to acknowledge the overture towards friendship. “And you can call me Jemma.”

“Will do. So, the second thing is, Fitz was looking for the DWARFs – have you seen them?”

“Oh! Yes.” 

Jemma really felt embarrassed then. She had no reason to have them; she had just wanted to experiment with them a bit. The last time she had seen them, half of them were still prototypes and the other half were nothing more than drawings and equations jotted on every spare scrap of paper in the lab and their flat. It was possibly the most ambitious project she and Fitz had ever worked on together. She thought she’d be upset when she saw them complete and fully functional, but they had in many ways felt like some sort of tribute to their partnership, some sort of love letter he had written to her. 

That was silly, of course. S.H.I.E.L.D. would have expected him to finish them, and he certainly wouldn’t have been feeling particularly charitable towards her at the time. 

But she didn’t want to reveal any of that, so she just hurried over to the table in the corner and grabbed the case. She handed it to Bobbi, who gave her a rather suspicious, rather knowing look.

_Undisclosed U.S. City, Valentine’s Day, 2014_

“Come on.”

“Um…where are we going?” Fitz was more than a little wary as Bobbi grabbed him by the hand and dragged him off his chair. 

“I cannot sit here and watch you pout all night long.”

“I’m not pouting,” Fitz argued defensively. “I’m waiting for Izzy to come back with the intel so we can get onto the next part of this mission.”

“You’re pouting. So I’m taking you to dinner.”

Fitz’ eyebrows raised high on his forehead. At the same time, it was hard to turn down the prospect of food. “Ah. You know what day it is, right?”

“Obviously, Fitz. I can read a calendar.”

“Then…”

Bobbi stopped moving and looked at Fitz with a sad, supportive smile. “I remember my first Valentine’s Day after…you know.”

“You were married?”

Bobbi nodded. Fitz could barely hide the surprise or the curiosity about the kind of person who’d be brave enough to not only marry Bobbi but also divorce her. And maybe part of him also wanted to know what they were to each other now, if there was a possibility that he and Jemma could still find a way to be in each other’s lives in time. 

“Do you still talk to him?”

She leveled a look at him. 

Guess not.

_The Bus, Early December, 2014_

Jemma tutted, leaning closer to inspect the wound as she replaced the bandage. “You’re very lucky, Trip. If they hadn’t used that clotting agent on your wounds…well, let’s just say I’m glad they did.”

“I was in good hands,” he agreed. 

“You mean Skye’s dad? I’m pretty sure the benefit of having a doctor in the house is negated by – ”

“I meant Coulson and Fitz,” Trip interrupted. 

“Oh. Yes. Well, like I said, they did a good job. I still recommend a week of solid bed rest.”

“Bed rest? Where’s that in the S.H.I.E.L.D. handbook?” 

Jemma nodded in acknowledgement, then immediately reached out as he moved to put his shirt back on. “Whoa, stop it!” she ordered. “You’re going to rupture your sutures.”

“I won’t be high-fiving anybody for a while, but I’m okay, Jemma. Fitz did a great job. You taught him well.”

Jemma snorted. “If he learned first aid, it wasn’t from me. He never could stand any of the more biological work I did. And I know you’re trying to trick me into talking about him. You keep bringing him up.”

“Just curious how everything’s going there,” Trip admitted, grinning at her with twinkling eyes. 

“Fine,” Jemma answered succinctly, peeling off her gloves.

“More than fine, if the scuttlebutt is right.”

“Did you honestly just use the word scuttlebutt, Agent Triplett?”

He shrugged. “Are you trying to avoid the subject, Agent Simmons?”

“OK, yes,” she admitted, rolling her eyes. “We’re…spending time together. That’s all. Nothing more to say about that.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” he observed, smirking at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some people might be like “I'm so glad they kept themselves ~*pure*~ for each other,” and others will be like “whatever, shoulda sown their oats, also no sane woman is gonna kick Antoine Triplett out of her bunk.” I’m not really in either camp, necessarily; I just feel like it was most in character for these two total nerds who managed to get divorced even though they're madly in love with each other to be resistant to or hesitant about sleeping with other people in the relatively short time since they officially split.


	9. Chapter 9

_Fitz’ Dorm Room, S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy of Science and Technology, Mid August 2004_

“Fitz,” Jemma asked coquettishly, tilting her head back to look up at him from where she was lying in his lap. She had a direct view up his nose, and good grief, she even found that attractive.

“Hmm?”

“What do you want for your birthday?”

He shrugged, not looking up from the book he was reading. “Don’t really need anything.”

“What do you _want_?”

She really did mean that question in terms of presents, but when she saw his cheeks turn red and felt him shift beneath her, she couldn’t stop her grin. So, that’s how he wanted to play this.

“Now you have to tell me,” she declared, turning her head to the side to hide her grin against his stomach. 

He inhaled unsteadily, almost flinching away from her, and then immediately cleared his throat. Oh. _Oh_.

“Um…”

Jemma sat up, angling her body around to face him, propping herself up with one hand on the mattress on the other side of his lap. She darted her tongue out to lick her lips and almost started laughing when she saw how he was staring at her mouth. 

“Fitz?”

“So,” he began, talking very, very quickly and refusing to look her in the eye. “I heard some guys talking in class the other day and it’s just – I mean, they were just being guys, but it made me realize there’s something we haven’t done yet and if you wanted to…”

He took a deep breath, then shook his head quickly. He was about to speak again, clearly ready to talk himself right out of it.

“Fitz. Ask me.”

“Willyoupleasegivemeablowjob?”

Jemma blinked, trying to parse the words out. Her hesitation was just long enough, though, and Fitz shook his head again, eyes wide and horrified. 

“No, just – that was stupid. Forget I said that; you don’t have to. That’s misogynistic or something, I know. Just get me a computer game or something.”

And with that, he ducked his head again, deliberately focusing on his book and ignoring her. Jemma narrowed her eyes. 

One week later, she could barely suppress her laughter as he tore the wrapping paper off his present. The brief moment between when he saw the game – something she knew he’d never want to play in a million years – and when he managed to control his expression was absolutely hilarious. 

“Jemma, this is great. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome! Do you really like it?”

“I do. I just…” He frowned and shook the case a bit. “It seems oddly light.”

“Hmm. Maybe you should open it; make sure everything is in there.”

Fitz glanced at her, clearly a little thrown by how breathless she sounded. Then he opened the box, frowned even more when he didn’t see any contents, and flipped it over to empty it. A condom fell onto his waiting palm. 

“Um…Jemma?”

Jemma felt the flush rising up her neck and she reached a hand up to wrap around the back of it almost involuntarily. “I’ve been watching…some videos. For tips. I want to try it. What you asked for the other week.”

Fitz’ mouth dropped open, and Jemma laughed.

“I think I’m supposed to be the one with the open mouth.”

He snapped his jaw closed, looking away as he turned a bright red. “Jemma,” he said cautiously. “I meant it when I said you really don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Jemma glanced down at the tent forming in his lap. “And your penis suggests you don’t really want to say no either.”

He glanced up at her, looking pained. “My _penis_?”

“What?”

“Sexy.”

Jemma laughed. “Well, what should I call it? Your erection?”

Fitz slapped his palm to his face. “Dirty talk is another thing we might want to work on.”

“Later,” Jemma declared, and Fitz looked up, startled at her tone. Jemma didn’t look away from him, holding his gaze the entire time she lowered herself to the ground and reached out for the button of his jeans. “One thing at a time,” she added in a whisper.

She unhooked the button and moved to pull his jeans and pants down. Fitz was barely able to lift his hips to help her, he was shaking so hard. When she raised herself taller and focused on opening the condom wrapper, he seemed to come back to himself, though.

“Here, let me,” he said gruffly.

The whole room felt like it had been draped with some kind of blanket, wrapping them in a strange mix of intimacy and pressure, of silence and labored breathing. Fitz rolled the condom on, then looked up at Jemma. She shuffled closer on her knees, pausing a moment to gather her hair and hold it off to the side in one hand. When she felt his fingers brush the side of her cheek, she reached out to grab his…dick...with her free hand, something familiar at least from the two and a half handjobs she’d given him already. Then she closed her eyes and lowered down.

And promptly gagged when he bumped against the back of her throat. She pulled off quickly, making an entirely unattractive _haghk_ sound.

“You OK?” he asked, full of worry.

Jemma squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. She swallowed. “Just…not so deep, I guess,” she observed.

“Jemma – ”

She didn’t wait for him to finish, and dropped her head back down to suck just the tip in. All she could really taste was the condom, and all she could hear was the husky breath he exhaled as he dropped back to his elbows and his head smacked against the wall. One of his hands returned to cup just by her ear, and Jemma’s lips stretched in an attempt at a smile. She twirled her tongue and slurped at his tip again and tried to remember some of the things she’d seen in the videos she’d watched. Oh, right. Down the side of the shaft. She pulled off, tilted her head to get a better angle and dragged her open mouth along the length of – 

“Oh _God_!”

That didn’t sound good. Jemma bolted upright, staring at Fitz in fear. “What?”

“Just – ” he said, clearly struggling against some kind of reaction. “Can you…um, your teeth are kinda sharp.”

“Oh,” Jemma said meekly. And then, damn it, she felt tears start to sting her eyes. She covered her face with her hands and fought against a sob. “I’m so bad at this, I’m sorry. I wanted to – I wanted – ”

“No! Oh, Jemma, no.” He sounded entirely apologetic and comforting as he sat up and moved closer to grab her wrists. “You just need…”

She looked at him curiously.

He winced and shook his head. “Practice,” he finished quickly under his breath. Then he spoke louder, “Wanna step back a bit? Make out for a while?”

Jemma hesitated, then nodded sadly. “Yeah.”

“Yeah? OK. Come up here.”

She did as he suggested, climbing onto the narrow bed and stretching out. He shifted around, pulling her closer and nuzzling her cheek before kissing her. Jemma sighed against his lips, feeling more comfortable as they fell into the rhythm they had perfected. She loved kissing him like this, especially in the evening when the little fuzz on his face started to grow in. He felt so manly, his arms around her, his hard member pushing into her hip, his thigh warm and solid as she pressed her own core against him in anticipation of all the things they hadn’t done yet. They’d get there someday, she knew, but until then, just kissing him like this, just feeling his tongue in her mouth and his breath on her face…

“It’s OK,” he murmured. “You can’t be the best at everything.”

What.

Jemma pushed him away. “What?”

Fitz hesitated, clearly realizing he had said something wrong. “I – didn’t mean anything bad by that. I just meant…”

“Right. OK.” 

Jemma sat up, shifting them around until he was flat on his back and she was straddling his legs. He stared up at her in surprise, eyes wide open and hands lifted almost in surrender.

“What are you doing?”

She scooted backwards and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m gonna suck your brains out through your cock,” she informed him in a hard voice.

“Holy shit,” he breathed out. 

And then she removed the condom, maybe a tad too fast judging by the way he jumped beneath her. She didn’t bother acknowledging his reaction, however, choosing instead to lean forward far enough until her breasts pressed against his chest. He was entirely focused on her. 

“And I’m gonna swallow,” she added, inwardly celebrating as his eyes widened even more.

She moved down then and got into position, paused to take a breath, and then suppressed her gag reflex through sheer force of will as she took him as deep as she could manage. She could just barely hear his gasps and groans and curses over the sucking sounds she was making. His hips rocked up, and she followed the movement until she pulled off him with a _pop_. She licked down the underside of his shaft to his balls, tapping them with her tongue, then sucking them into her mouth and humming. Returning to the tip, she wiggled her tongue in the slit, then wrapped her mouth around him again.

Maybe it wasn’t _technically_ the “best” blowjob, but it sure was the best damn one he ever had. It was an embarrassingly-for-him short time later when he made a whining sound and his hips lifted straight up, jostling her a bit, and his release filled her mouth. She forced it down, nearly gagging again, and sat up, watching him as he fought for breath. When he managed to look at her, she ran her tongue slowly along her top lip. The noise he made was definitely not English, and his eyes closed again. 

“Fitz,” Jemma said forcefully. He opened his eyes obediently, and she informed him, “My birthday’s in 23 days. Better start doing some research of your own.”

He looked down at her crotch and Jemma rocked forward, pressing down against him. Then, she laughed and patted his chest. “Don’t worry too much about it, though. You can’t be the best at everything.”

She rolled off him and headed for his desk and the bottle of water sitting on it.

_Jemma Simmons’ Bunk, The Playground, Early December, 2014_

Jemma moaned loudly, Fitz’ cock falling out of her mouth and her fingers extending before pressing into his arse again. Her eyelids fluttered in a weak imitation of the pulses below. Fitz gave her a few more swipes with his tongue and then pulled away.

“I win,” he murmured. “That makes the official score – ”

Jemma opened her eyes and sighed, too satisfied to be too annoyed. “I can’t believe you’re still keeping track.” 

Fitz chuckled, the puffs of air hitting her sensitive skin. “The Indy 6900 is my favorite race.”

Jemma broke into laughter. And then, she pulled away from him, twisting around somewhat uncomfortably until her head was facing the same direction as his and she was on her back. She tapped at his hip, and he got the message, lifting himself to his hands and knees and repositioning above her.

“Take your victory lap then,” she instructed, her lips brushing against him as she spoke.

She opened wide as he slid into her mouth again, and then she closed her lips around him. She kept the seal as tight as possible, adding a little suction or a press of her tongue with each of his careful and steady thrusts. It didn’t take long before he came with a groan. Moments later, he pulled out slowly, and Jemma swallowed the fluid with a slight grimace. She had never gotten used to the flavor or the texture, but she knew how hot Fitz found it whenever she indulged him with it. She giggled as his hands dropped down to hook under her arms and yank her up the mattress until they were aligned. He cuddled up against her, and Jemma sighed, enjoying the intimacy. 

“I forgot how good you are at that,” she whispered in his ear, producing a little shiver down his back.

“I forgot how good you taste,” he responded. 

There was something about the whole exchange that made Jemma’s heart swell with happiness, even as it clenched with pain. The moment didn’t last, though, and Fitz began to roll away with a sigh, clearly intending to get up and leave.

“Stay,” she requested before she could stop herself. He turned to her, but Jemma couldn’t meet his gaze. She didn’t want to know what expression she’d see in it. “Just – until I fall asleep.”

His hesitation was brief but noticeable, but he eventually settled back down, drawing her into an embrace again. “OK,” he agreed softly.


	10. Chapter 10

_Jemma Simmons’ Bunk, The Playground, Early December, 2014_

The ambient light in the room slowly started to brighten as the Playground’s controls switched over to morning. Fitz, still half-asleep and entirely too comfortable, emphatically rejected that idea and moaned as he forced his head deeper into the pillow.

Well, _comfortable_ might not be the most accurate word because there was the provocative matter of warm skin pressing back against his crotch and his erection growing in response. Not to mention the fact that his palm was tucked part-protectively and part-covetously between Jemma’s legs. As if in a daze, he used the hand to tug her closer. He teased at her entrance, felt his fingers slip in the wetness a bit, and lightly pinched her clit between his knuckles.

It was only when Jemma lifted her arm and hooked it backwards to grab him by the nape that he woke up fully with a little jump. Even then, he made no effort to back away.

“Jemma?” 

She moaned, sliding her hand back down until it tangled with his own, encouraging him to fondle her more even as he used the connection to guide the way they moved together.

“I think I…must have fallen asleep,” he whispered, trying to explain or excuse his presence long after he should have left her room.

“Not really my biggest concern right now,” she replied as she arched her back and pressed more firmly against his cock. 

It was a very compelling argument, one he responded to by softly moving his hand in a wave-like squeezing motion then grinding the heel of his palm against her mound. Jemma cursed under her breath, turning her head into the pillow. Fitz lifted up to see her more clearly, to admire the skin around her neck reddening from arousal, and then dropped back down so he could concentrate all his energy on his lower body. 

She reached behind herself again, this time lower, and grabbed hold of him. She stroked his cock once, twice, three times, then lifted her leg slightly so he could slide in between her thighs. Her breath came out in short, shallow bursts, pulled from her each time he dragged through her folds and nudged the head of his cock against her clit. 

“Oh, God,” Jemma choked out brokenly, writhing next to him even as she tried to squeeze her legs shut and increase the sensation for both of them. 

Fitz couldn’t stop a small whimper and then, regrettably, pulled his hand away from her. He wiped it off on the sheets quickly and then propped it on the mattress on the other side of her, closer to her chest. He angled his body up and over, trying to get more force behind his movements. 

Jemma took it one step farther, rolling onto her stomach and face down on her pillow. Fitz nearly lost control at the erotic sight of her grabbing the extra pillow and forcing her hips high enough to stuff it beneath her crotch. 

“In me, Fitz,” she mumbled, practically incoherent and not just from the fabric she was mouthing. “In me, please. Now.”

She didn’t need to ask again. He panted, his heart racing, as he grasped her hips and slid inside her channel. Reaching his hands up then, he grabbed both of hers and pulled them up to the top edge of the mattress. She gripped it tightly, and he covered the backs of her hands with his own, and they both held on as he lowered himself against her back and began thrusting with all his might. Moans and pleas poured out of her, muffled by the pillow she pressed her face into. Fitz ducked his head next to her neck, sucking and kissing and, when it got the loudest reaction, even biting. She moved wildly beneath him, bucking up, side to side, back down into the bunched up pillow, never stopping until she cried out and fell still, quivering with the last shocks of her climax.

Fitz slowed his own movement, feeling like he was about to die from either the pride of driving her to so much pleasure or the urgent need to come himself. He couldn’t stop his thrusts entirely, though, and each one elicited another small whimper from her lips. Fitz kissed the back of her neck, breathed out shallowly, then stroked one hand down her arm, along the side of her breast, and to her torso.

“I want to try something,” he whispered in her ear.

He chose to take her unintelligible groan as assent and wedged his hand beneath her, spreading his fingers out for maximum support as he rolled over and brought her with him. It was not the most graceful move, and Jemma squeaked in surprise before she settled on top of him. He was just happy he had been able to reposition them without slipping out of her. He blew her hair off his face and out of his mouth, spluttering a bit, and then began wiggling.

Jemma got the idea very fast, clenching around him as she arched and rotated her own body. Fitz moved his hands up to cup and squeeze her breasts even as she dropped her hands lower. She never stopped moving then, caressing her own overstimulated sex, his cock where it entered her, even reaching to tug at his balls. 

Fitz didn’t last much longer after that. As he wheezed for breath and felt as if his heart were racing somewhere around his throat, he heard Jemma mumble something. 

“What?” 

She shook her head, turning away from him. “Nothing, it was nothing.”

Fitz exhaled sharply, letting his eyes drift closed. Despite her evasion, he recognized the cadence from the way she used to sigh out her emotions at times like this. He was pretty sure it was the same nothing he was using all the tattered remains of his willpower not to tell her.

_FitzSimmons’ Flat, May, 2009_

“That was horrible,” Fitz observed as he turned off the television.

Jemma snickered from where she was curled up on the other end of the couch. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You know exactly how bad that was. We work with real secret agents. We _are_ secret agents.”

“Well…not really.”

Fitz glanced at her, feigning offense. “Last I checked we worked for a spy agency.”

“In a _lab_.”

“Hey, the lab’s dangerous and unpredictable. Just last week, Donnie and I ordered pizza instead of tacos.”

“Ooh.”

“Jemma, it was _Taco Tuesday_.”

She shook her head, still smiling, and then pushed off the couch to put the empty popcorn bowl in the kitchen. But the humor faded, as the niggling thought that had been plaguing her for a while appeared again.

“Fitz?” she called out, aiming for a casual tone. “Do you ever think about going into the field?”

The scoff behind her was louder than she expected, and she turned in surprise to see him leaning against the kitchen door. 

“No.”

“Why not? It would be…an adventure.”

“Oh, what? I’m not adventurous enough for you now? Of the two of us, which one has picked out a cottage in Perthshire to retire to?” 

“Retire to!” she pointed out, perhaps in not quite the joking manner she had meant to. “Years from now. I’d like to have some fun before then, and see the world!”

“Fun?” Fitz’ own demeanor was starting to get a little more testy now too. “Risking our lives, sleeping in, I don’t know, muddy sewer drains, surrounded by idiot specialists all day long. Sounds like great fun.”

He turned away and disappeared back into the other room. Jemma sighed, wondering if she should just drop it. Fitz was always so resistant to change and leaving his comfort zone, and it wasn’t like it was something she was completely committed to doing anyway.

On the other hand, sometimes he just needed convincing.

Jemma followed him, sitting back down on the couch, closer than she had been before. 

“There are so many mysteries of the universe, Fitz,” she reminded him, gesturing excitedly and feeling her eyes get wide with enthusiasm. “So many phenomena we can study and – do you really just want to spend the rest of our lives tinkering with tech that we never get to be the ones to use? Now’s the time; there’s nothing holding us back.”

He gave her a look in reply that she couldn’t quite understand. There was hurt and maybe some resentment or resignation, but then he blinked and shook his head and the expression was gone. He inhaled deeply, letting the breath out slow, and stared down at his hands. 

“Jemma,” he finally said. “We’re not kids anymore – ”

“Yes, we really kind of are and more importantly, we never _were_ – ”

“ _And_ we have responsibilities. We have a life. We can’t just pick up and leave.”

Jemma turned away, breath shuddering a little bit in disappointment. “Fine,” she murmured. “You’re right.”

She stood, then walked to the desk in the corner. There was probably something she could pretend to work on until she felt better or it was time to sleep. 

“We can’t all be the astronauts. Some of us have to be the rocket scientists.”

He had said it under his breath, and she tried to convince herself to pretend she didn’t hear it. She counted to ten, then counted to ten again, then faced him, still angry.

“You aren’t still going on about him, are you? That was _weeks_ ago.”

Fitz was pretending to check his phone, and he shrugged without looking at her.

“Oh my God!” Jemma threw her hands up and walked closer to him again. “I’m sorry if other men sometimes find me attractive. I didn’t encourage him.”

Fitz looked up, shooting a glare at her. “You had your hands all over him.”

“Measuring him for his space suit! Next time S.H.I.E.L.D. and NASA develop a joint project, I’ll just say ‘sorry, can’t do that; the only man I have ever wanted gets upset when I do my job.’”

Fitz tossed his phone aside and stood up, walking over to stand just in front of her. “I don’t remember the last time you touched me like that, is all.”

Jemma gaped at him for a moment, feeling a little ambushed by the shift in topic. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Jemma, when was the last time we had sex? It’s like we’re – just friends or roommates, not married.”

Tears sprung to her eyes, but she wasn’t really sure why. Maybe it had been a while, but that didn’t mean anything, did it? There were ebbs and flows in any relationship. It certainly didn’t mean any of the things he was implying. Jemma clenched her jaw.

“You said yourself, Fitz. We’re not kids. Just because I don’t get you off three times a day anymore doesn’t mean I’m getting someone else off or would rather be.”

With that, she stormed into the bedroom. Forget about pretending to do work. She was just going to take a bath and go to bed. Fitz would be lucky if he was allowed to sleep there with her. She stripped off her clothes angrily, then pulled on her robe. But then, she seemed to lose her fire and just sank onto the bed, hands in her lap as she stared at the floor. It completely surprised her when, a few minutes later, the mattress next to her dipped with Fitz’ weight.

“You used to find it cute when I got jealous,” he pointed out softly.

Jemma sniffed. “After five years together, it’s gotten a little old. I chose to be with you forever, remember? We chose each other.”

“Did we, though?” he asked.

She looked up at him, confused. He seemed surprised and a little afraid, like he hadn’t meant to say that and didn’t want to hear her answer.

“What do you mean?”

After a long pause, he explained, “Just…it’s not much of a choice, is it? When there’s only one person to choose from? Maybe the jealousy’s not cute anymore because – maybe you’re feeling defensive because – there’s something for me to worry about. Maybe you wish you hadn’t made your choice without knowing all the options.”

“Oh, _Fitz_.”

“Jemma, are you happy?”

“Of _course_ I am.”

He nodded, staring straight ahead. Jemma reached out to take one of his hands in her own.

“Are you?” she asked meekly.

“Yes, definitely.”

His response felt too immediate, and she was pretty sure they were both at least partially lying. Silence stretched out between them, getting heavier and scarier.

“Let’s have sex,” she blurted. 

Fitz turned to her, stunned, and she couldn’t stop a nervous and awkward laugh. 

“What? _Now?_ ”

Jemma shrugged, forcing herself to appear calmer and more confident than she felt. “Just – you’re right. It’s been a while. I miss you.”

“Jemma, I don’t know if right now is the best – ”

She kissed him, and he froze. Jemma counted the seconds in her head, hoping. On _four-Beryllium_ , he opened his mouth and kissed her back. She lowered herself slowly to the mattress, keeping her grip on his shirt tight so he followed her down. Fitz stretched out above her, and she kicked her legs a bit to open up her robe. He settled into the groove between her thighs, even as he lifted one hand to the knot in the sash. He untied it blindly and pulled the rest of her robe open, revealing her entire naked body to him.

Fitz pulled back and looked down, exhaling roughly and a tad shakily. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered.

“Fitz,” Jemma begged.

Those were the last words they spoke to each other as things heated up. It was not the best sex they’d ever had – they couldn’t quite find a rhythm that worked for both of them at the same time, and he seemed hesitant to touch her everywhere. Neither one of them attempted to turn on the lamp, so it was hard to read his expressions in the dim light from the hall. Jemma couldn’t help but notice that they both turned their heads away from each other sometimes, or squeezed their eyes shut, as if they were trying to hide something or not let themselves get too caught up in emotion and sensation. They both eventually reached orgasm, harsh breathing and bit-off moans finally breaking through the silence. The pleasure didn’t last particularly long though, and she remembered that sex didn’t necessarily mean intimacy and feeling good didn’t necessarily translate into feeling better. 

Fitz pulled out of her and rolled to the side. She could feel him looking at her, and the tension slowly grew between them again.

“Jemma?” he finally whispered.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say, fighting tears.

“What? Why?”

“You’re right; I didn’t – I didn’t give you much of a choice, did I?” The words seemed to pour out of her then, unstoppable. “I remember when we first met, and you were so quiet and pasty, so incredibly smart and handsome. It’s quite a strange feeling, isn’t it? Never wanting to be without someone? You must have been so annoyed, me following you around all the time.”

“No, never,” Fitz argued, rolling closer and gripping her by her elbow, forcing her to face him. “Jemma, love, that’s not what I was saying at all.”

“I hope you don’t regret it,” Jemma continued, weeping openly. “I didn’t mean to – trap you or something.”

“Oh God, no, Jemma. I couldn’t live in a world that didn’t have you in it.”

“But then,” she paused, sniffing and shifting closer to him until he hugged her fully, “if we both feel the same way, then why are things so…”

“Awful right now?” Fitz suggested, and Jemma nodded sadly. “I don’t know.”

“What do you think we should do about it?”

Fitz sighed. Jemma stared at him, waiting. Finally, he faced her again, peering into her eyes through the darkness. “For now, let’s just sleep. We’ll wake up tomorrow, watch the sunrise, maybe take the day off and – I don’t know, just be together for a while.”

Jemma swallowed and ultimately nodded in agreement with the plan. Fitz pulled her closer and she nuzzled into his neck with a whispered “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he murmured before kissing her temple softly.


	11. Chapter 11

_San Juan, Puerto Rico, Early December, 2014_

Jemma swore and threw an arm out to stop Fitz. He nearly stumbled and fell from the abrupt change in motion.

“What is it?”

“Isn’t that Bobbi’s contact over there, walking towards us?”

He looked around, finally spotting the man in question. “Yes,” he confirmed.

“Who would you say those people walking with him are?”

Fitz looked again, then narrowed his eyes. “I would say those are Hydra agents.”

“Crap.”

Fitz twisted around, feeling nervous. They were almost to the entrance to the city, and they didn’t exactly look like tourists with the equipment they were carrying. Few people were out this far, and they wouldn’t be able to blend in. There’s no way that the Hydra thugs wouldn’t spot them. Depending on how well they were informed, they might even _recognize_ them.

“What do we – mmph.”

It was hard to be too worried about much of anything when Jemma suddenly had her tongue down his throat. Fitz groaned, leaning into her more as he pushed her up against the wall of the building next to them. She let out a little animalistic growl as she nipped at his lower lip, and good grief, he was half hard just like that. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her closer, tilting his hips so she could feel what she did to him, and opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. Jemma eventually broke away, her head thumping back, her smile wide and encouraging. Fitz bent his head to work his way down her neck, vaguely wondering if she’d be pissed if he gave her a hickey and tempted to find out. 

“Is something happening?” she breathed in his ear.

The question didn’t make a whole lot of sense to him considering all of his brainpower was shutting down and blood was rushing to his _other_ brain, but if there were any chance she meant something between them, something more than just – something serious…

“Oh God, I hope so,” he mumbled against her skin.

“Huh? Are they coming this way or not?”

Oh. Right. Hydra. 

“Yeah, they’re almost here, better keep kissing,” Fitz lied without even looking. 

“Good plan.” 

Jemma wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him up to meet her mouth with his own. Her other hand dropped lower, sliding along his torso until her finger hooked in the belt loop just next to his fly. She tugged him closer, and Fitz went willingly, and oh God, they were going to be arrested for public indecency if they – 

The sound of a throat clearing made them jump apart quickly. Fitz grabbed the dropped case even as he glanced around, trying to regain his senses. There was absolutely no sign of Bobbi’s contact or the Hydra agents. But there was Mack, who had caught up to them with the rest of the equipment and was giving them an exasperated look. 

“Oh good,” Jemma observed breathlessly, smoothing out her hair and pasting on her _I-am-a-professional_ expression. “They didn’t spot us. Let’s get to that city!”

She hurried away, but Fitz wasn’t quite capable of moving yet or at least of moving his equipment case away from where he held it conveniently blocking sight of his crotch. He glanced up at Mack, who shook his head back at him.

“You two are killing me.”

_The Bus, Early February 2014_

Jemma smiled, maybe a little too broadly, as she entered the containment room where Donnie had holed himself up. She held out a cup of tea as some sort of comforting peace offering. The look he gave her in reply was difficult to see – pain and fear and guilt and nausea. He was too young to have something like this on his shoulders. She’d do what she could to take some of the burden.

“Scooch over, please.”

He obeyed without complaint, making room for her on the cot. Then he leaned back against the padded wall and sighed.

“How are you?”

After a pause, he replied, “It’s a little cold in here, actually. I’ll have to check on the atmosphere controls.”

“See? Making jokes already.”

But when she looked at him, he wasn’t smiling. She reached out to pull him sideways into a hug and patted his shoulder soothingly. She felt hot tears hit her clavicle and her own eyes filled as well. She blinked quickly to clear them. 

“What am I going to do?”

“We’ll figure it out together, just like we did before.”

“Coulson’s going to lock me up somewhere.”

Jemma shook her head. “No, he’s not. If he tried, we’d all stop him. We’re a family. And really, you learn to control this thing, and our team will have its very own superhero.”

Donnie barked in sudden, unexpected laughter, then sat up to look at her. “Thanks, Jemma.”

She sighed, shaking her head and staring down at herself. She picked at a loose thread on the hem of her jumper. The seconds stretched out. 

“I wish Fitz were here,” she finally admitted. “He’d handle this better. He’d know what to do, what to say to you, how to help. I just – I’m not – ” _maternal_ “ – I’m too practical or something, I don’t know, and – ”

“Jemma, stop. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.” He paused. “But yeah, it would be good if he were here too. He probably wouldn’t have fallen for Dormer’s act, at the very least.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Donnie.”

They were both silent for a long time. Jemma was trying to work up the courage to make the offer she knew was necessary. It shouldn’t even be a question. It was for Donnie and it’d be worth it.

“We can call him,” she finally forced out.

She could feel Donnie’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t meet them.

“Are you ready for that? Do you think he is?”

“We’ll have to be. For your sake.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” he replied, “but I’m not sure the rest of the team is ready for Hurricane FitzSimmons. So, let’s try to figure it out ourselves first, and call him in if necessary.”

Jemma exhaled, secretly relieved. She was completely sincere and would have called him if Donnie had wanted it. But things did still feel a little too raw, and she wasn’t sure how well they would have been able to work together anyway. 

“Besides, I think I’m already getting the hang of it. Check it out – iced tea.”

He held the cup back out to her, the recently-steaming drink now a solid block of ice. Jemma’s mouth dropped open as she took it from him. 

“Donnie, that’s amazing,” she breathed out.

_The Playground, Mid December, 2014_

“Trip was in fragments!” Jemma sobbed, burrowing into Fitz’ embrace.

It had been an exceptionally long, arduous task, overseeing the clean-up and destruction of the underground city. And whenever she closed her eyes, she just saw it again, that segment of rock in the shape of his face. 

“I am so sorry,” Fitz whispered, tightening his hold on her. “He was – a good man, and he didn’t deserve that. And you shouldn’t have had to deal with that alone.”

His comfort just made her want to cry harder. Fitz had always had insecurities and jealousies that he had trouble controlling – and honestly, Jemma was so proud of him when she saw him bite back the comments about or to Trip, at least before the Hawaii mission during which things had seemed to work themselves out. She knew he knew or suspected that she and Trip had once flirted with the possibility of something more, but he wasn’t petty enough to let that get in the way of being there for her now. Indeed, she knew that Fitz had been friends with Trip himself and was mourning him as well. It was truly a relief to be able to share this with him, whatever their uncertain relationship status was. And it was perhaps a bigger relief to know that he’d be there with her moving forward, and this time they’d share the responsibility of preventing anything like it again.

“We have to figure this out, Fitz,” she demanded. “What’s causing it, how to stop it.”

“We will,” he promised in reply. 

Before he could continue speaking, however, Jemma’s tablet beeped. She sighed, rolling over to grab it. But when she saw the screen, her heart seized in terror and she sat bolt upright. 

“Jemma? What is it?”

With a shaking hand, she held out the tablet. Fitz took it from her and was silent for a long beat as he stared at the results.

“Is this Skye’s DNA?”

“Look at all those extra macromolecules,” Jemma whispered.

“What do we do?”

Jemma exhaled slowly, then nodded in determination. “We go tell her what’s happened, then we go tell Coulson so he can approve anything we might need in the lab for it.”

Fitz hesitated. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“Of course,” Jemma confirmed with a nod. “This isn’t our team’s first experience with…gifted people. Donnie, remember? Whatever happened to Skye, we’ll figure it out and help her as best we can.”

Fitz stared at her for a beat, then nodded like he had made an important decision. “Yeah,” he agreed. “She’s different now, but she’s still one of us.”

_The Bus, New Year’s Day, 2014_

Jemma suspected she was hitting every cliché in the book right now – curled up in the fetal position on her lonely bed, depressing song playing from her computer, chocolate and wine in easy reach if and when she wanted them, so on and so forth. She had one hand in a weak fist, and the other hand held a photograph she kept hidden away most of the time.

Fitz in a suit, smiling, arms wrapped around her waist and leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. Jemma on tiptoes to reach him, clinging to one lapel, with the new ring on that hand by chance catching the flash just right and twinkling back at the camera lens.

Jemma sniffed loudly, remembering back to that day and how happy they both were. How she thought they’d be that happy the rest of their lives. Of course, she had no way of knowing then what was to come. And now, here it was, their anniversary, and they were separated by thousands of miles and two signatures that made the date meaningless. 

A knock on the door startled her and she sat up quickly, hiding the picture under her pillow and wiping at her eyes.

“Yes? Come in,” she called out, aware her voice was shaking but hoping whoever it was wouldn’t notice.

The door opened and Jemma twisted to see her visitor. Visitors, as it turned out. Donnie offered her a sheepish smile, while Skye radiated a desperately positive vibe. 

“Donnie’s dropped enough hints for me to know why you might be sad today,” Skye blurted.

Jemma shot an annoyed and maybe just a little grateful look at her lab mate. He shrugged in response.

“And anyway,” Skye continued, “we can’t make things better but we can distract you.”

She reached out and grabbed Jemma’s hand, tugging her off the bed despite Jemma’s protests.

“Come on, Simmons. What are friends for?”

_The Playground, Late December, 2014_

Jemma felt frustrated by the results of the tests. The armbands weren’t working quite like she’d hoped they would, or even like she and Fitz expected them to at this stage. His little muttering to himself as he adjusted some of the settings weren’t helping, and she blew a strand of hair off her face in annoyance.

“Hey!” Skye said, smiling in reassurance. “Don’t worry; I’m sure you two will figure it out. And then I can be a superhero like Iron Man.”

“Or Captain America,” Fitz added excitedly. 

Jemma furrowed her brow. “Surely the Hulk would be the more appropriate comparison. After all – ”

Fitz shook his head to interrupt her with all sorts of reasons for matching Skye’s powers to the other Avengers and honestly… “Oh, Fitz!”

“Don’t _oh Fitz_ me, I’m just saying – ”

Skye laughed and they both turned to face her. 

“You two are too cute, with your little bickering.” Jemma blushed and couldn’t bring herself to look at Fitz. “Anyway,” Skye continued, “I have to go meet May. Don’t worry too much about these armbands, guys. I know you’ll figure it out, and I really appreciate everything you’re doing.”

“Oh, Skye,” Jemma replied, “what are friends for?”

Skye hopped off her seat then, leaving the lab with a little wave. She and Fitz were both silent for a while, avoiding each other’s eyes. Then Fitz spoke quietly, hesitantly.

“I missed this, doing science with you, even fighting – I mean, not _fighting_ but – ”

“I know what you mean,” Jemma reassured him, feeling her blush grow deeper along with a spreading warmth through her whole body. “I missed it too.”


	12. Chapter 12

_City Park Near FitzSimmons’ Flat, Mid January 2011_

“Put your scarf on it. It’ll look cute.”

“No, I’m not gonna do that.”

“Aww, why not?”

“Because it’s freezing out. You put _your_ scarf on it.”

Jemma stopped moving and sat up as carefully as possible so as not to destroy her snow angel. “Fitz, it’s a snow _man_ ; it can’t wear a lavender scarf.”

“That’s rather sexist, Dr. Simmons. I’m not sure I agree with your logic.”

Jemma smiled up at him, shifting ever so slightly into a pose that no angel would be making, even if the bulk of her jacket made her a shapeless blob. Fitz sighed and began to unwind his scarf. Jemma smirked, dropping back down to work on her masterpiece some more.

“Tell it to me again,” Fitz ordered.

“Really?”

“Yes, you need to practice it. Make it sound believable.”

Jemma sighed. “Oh yes, Agent Hand, thank you. I am feeling better. I could barely get out of bed yesterday. And Fitz had this really gross, green nasal discharge that he kept hacking up, kind of like a cat with a hair – ”

“ _Stop_.”

“Too disgusting?”

“Too detailed; you’re such a horrible liar. She’ll know immediately we just skived off to play in the snow. Also, why am I the one with the gross nasal discharge?”

Jemma laughed, sticking her tongue out to catch a lightly falling flake. “Fitz, no one as cute as me could produce gross nasal discharge.”

“Oh, right,” Fitz teased, falling on the ground next to her. “Forgot about that.” 

Jemma reached a mittened hand out, sliding it into Fitz’ glove. “Today has been so much fun.”

“Mm-hmm,” he agreed, rolling over until he was half on top of her. He slid his knee between hers, and Jemma couldn’t quite bring herself to care about the structural integrity of the snow angel. In fact, as he nuzzled the tip of her nose with his own frozen one, she found she didn’t really care about much of anything. Well…almost. She wrapped one hand around the back of his head and turned the other over to slowly, cautiously gather up some snow. She gazed up at him as lovingly yet erotically as she could, until she was pretty sure the flush on his face wasn’t solely from the cold air.

“I can’t get over how much I love you,” she whispered.

Fitz leaned closer then, clearly going in for a kiss, and that was when she sprung her trap. He immediately yelped, rolling away from her and flopping about as he tried to deal with the snow down the back of his jacket. Jemma curled up, cackling.

It was several long moments before Fitz calmed, sprawled out and breathing heavily as he stared up at the sky.

“You utter…”

Jemma just laughed louder.

“I can’t believe you did that. I can’t believe you tricked me into taking off my scarf, then seduced me just so you could do that.”

“But Fitz,” she asked, feigning innocent confusion. “How could I have pulled off such a devious plan? I’m a horrible liar, remember?”

“That’s it,” he declared. “Prepare for war.”

Jemma shrieked as he pounced. There was nothing but flailing limbs and flying snow for a while, and by the time Jemma let Fitz get the upper hand, they were both soaked through, with racing pulses and eyes twinkling above rosy red cheeks, and laughing too hard to catch their breaths. There was no sign of the snow angel anymore, but Jemma perhaps vainly suspected she made an even prettier sight spread out on the ground. Fitz dug his knees into the snow on either side of her and leaned forward to lock onto her wrists and hold her captive.

“Do you surrender?”

Jemma bit her lip to stop her smile. “That depends. Is that an icicle in your pants or are you just happy to see me?”

“An icicle? That’s really the best you got?” Fitz asked, laughing. “I’m not sure if I should be offended.”

She replied with an impish shrug, and Fitz shook his head in mock disappointment.

“Come on,” he said. “You’re about to turn into an icicle yourself. Let’s get inside and I’ll make you some tea.”

“Or you could warm me up a more fun way.”

Fitz grinned. “An even better idea.”

And it was more fun. The next day wasn’t, though, when they really were too sick to get out of bed.

_The Playground, Late December, 2014_

Jemma jumped back quickly to clear the lab doorway, watching in surprise as Mack stomped past her without acknowledgment. He was still dealing with the anger and the fear, then. Completely understandable, of course. But Jemma realized, as she walked into the lab, Fitz apparently didn’t think so. He stood, glowering at the bench, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Everything OK?”

He jumped, only then noticing her presence. “Yeah, everything’s… Not really, no.”

“Mack?”

“I don’t – I’m just trying to help. I want to – ”

“Fitz,” Jemma interrupted firmly yet kindly, “it’s not about what you want. Mack was the one who went through the trauma.”

He stared at her, speechless and bristling with defensiveness. Jemma gave him a supportive smile and rested her hand over his. He stared down for a while, then sighed, relaxing his posture enough to turn his hand over. Jemma slipped her fingers into the curl of his palm. 

“You don’t know what it’s like to…lose control,” Jemma reminded him, “to deal with something alien inside you or even just be trapped inside your own body, unable to tell it what to do, to watch yourself hurt the people you – the people you care about.”

They held eye contact for a long moment. Fitz tilted his head curiously and stepped closer, tightening his grip on her hand. Jemma took a deep breath, struggling with the memories of the virus and of – she pressed her lips together and shook her head. Her expression must have revealed something, however, because he closed the distance between them and pulled her into a hug. 

“Just…be there when he’s ready to talk to you,” she suggested. “And _listen_ to what he needs from you.” 

“I will,” Fitz promised.

_The Bus, Early November, 2013_

“Sir.” Jemma paused to send him a shaky smile. “I know the protocol in these circumstances, but could you please tell my dad first? I just think they’ll take it better if it comes from him. My mom and – ”

“We’re not there yet,” Coulson argued. “There’s still time.”

Jemma wished she could believe him, but they’d all seen the results of the latest test of the antiserum. Coulson might be in denial; Donnie might already be working on the next batch. But she knew the truth, and if she could have a final wish, it would be knowing that Fitz, still her official next of kin, would hear of her death from her dad and not through a call from Coulson or, worse, a visit from strange S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

“Sir, please.”

Coulson hesitated, then nodded.

“Would you mind if I had a brief moment alone with Donnie?”

\---

After she left Donnie’s bunk, Jemma wandered around the Bus, thinking. About how it could have been her last day. About how she would not have regretted her decision to jump, if it had meant saving the lives of her teammates. About all the other regrets she would have had.

Eventually, she entered her own bunk and pulled out the papers that she had been avoiding. It seemed like her life had become one unending series of before and after moments. Before and after meeting Fitz. Before and after their wedding. Before and after Centipede and the – 

And now, before and after the virus. It put things in a new perspective. It reminded her that things could change in the blink of an eye. She couldn’t just leave everything in limbo.

Jemma sighed, picked up a pen, and added her signature. She’d mail it first chance she got. And then, that’d be it.

Before and after the divorce.

_The Playground, New Year’s Day, 2015_

Jemma paced back and forth in her room, angry at Fitz and angrier at herself for being angry at him. What had she been expecting, a fancy dinner? A dozen roses? No, of course not. She just hadn’t been expecting him to avoid her all day either. They were in a better place than she’d ever hoped they would be again, even if probably neither one of them would know how to define that place, if asked. Of course it was difficult; it was for her too. She just didn’t think that ignoring it was the right way to deal with the difficulty. But how could she ask him to recognize the occasion somehow, either? There was no right way here.

The knock on her door made her jump. Jemma breathed out slowly, then swallowed. She opened the door.

“Fitz!”

He looked about as distressed as she felt, and with that, she felt completely calm.

“Hi,” Fitz said, voice shaky. “Um.”

She smiled, nodding in encouragement. 

“I didn’t know if I should say something or – or do something,” he blurted.

“Me neither,” she confessed.

“Oh. Um, so.” He brought his hand forward suddenly. One lone flower quivered in his grip. “Happy…”

Jemma beamed. She reached out, pulled him forward by the wrist until he was in the room, then closed and locked the door. She plucked the flower from his hand and reached out blindly to deposit it on the side table. He stared at her, quite confused, until she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a gentle kiss. 

“Happy anniversary, Fitz,” she whispered against his mouth. 

Fitz sighed softly and deepened the kiss, circling his arms around her. Nothing much more happened for some time, all of their energy devoted purely to kissing and soft caresses. They swayed slightly, absent-mindedly turning in a circle and moving ever so slowly closer to the bed. But when Jemma’s involuntary moan echoed throughout the room, it broke the spell and Fitz reacted. 

He bent at the knees, tightening his embrace and lifting. Jemma gasped, then followed the implicit instructions to hook her legs around his waist. He carried her forward – thankfully not far; he might be more developed now, but he wasn’t about to win any major weight-lifting contests. He practically dropped her on the bed, surprising a breathy laugh from her. 

Fitz lowered his hands immediately to his belt and began to undress. Not wanting to wait any longer than she had to, Jemma took the opportunity to peel off her shirt and unhook her bra. Moving quickly, she contorted on the bed, twisting and turning until her jeans and pants were off. She finally stilled, propped on her elbows and breathing heavily, and looked to Fitz. 

He was watching her with an odd mix of amused fondness and almost unbearable heat. And then he crawled onto the bed to kneel between her legs. He slid his hands along the tops of her thighs, then around to hook underneath them. With no warning, he tugged, pulling her closer to him, sending her hair flying back and provoking a squeak of surprise from her.

Fitz sat on his feet, creating a little table out of his knees. He nudged her higher up and higher up until her arse rested somewhat uncomfortably on his legs. Then he looked at her, almost daring her to take the last step. Jemma never was one to decline a challenge, so she let her feet drop to the mattress on either side of him, planted them to hold her weight, and lifted her hips. She wriggled forward, inching closer, grabbing his hand at the last moment as they connected and he slotted into her. 

Fitz moved his other hand to her mons, pressing down in slow, smooth circles as she clenched around him. He never let go of her hand, even squeezed it gently as they moved together. Jemma’s breath turned fast, her eyes drifting closed and her moans getting louder and louder. It was a strangely intimate position, perhaps because it made her feel exposed and vulnerable, laid out in front of him and – 

“Oh!” she exclaimed. 

Fitz had pushed up off his knees. He used one hand to lift her leg so it hooked around his shoulder, then shifted his weight to do the same with the other. Some part of her brain protested about her lack of flexibility but the rest of her nearly swooned at the depth it provided him, at how full it made her feel. Fitz leaned forward, the movement lifting her more until her shoulders were her only point of contact with the mattress. He moved one hand to her lower back to support her as he increased the strength but slowed the speed of his thrusts. Jemma whined as she tried to lift her hips even higher and stretched her arms out for a broader foundation. 

“Are you OK like this?” Fitz asked breathlessly, rocking into her again.

Her blasphemous scream as she came was probably answer enough, and she barely noticed the way her legs were pressed uncomfortably backward and then fell off him as Fitz lost his balance during his own climax. The next thing she really registered was Fitz pulling her back up to sit in his lap. She draped over him, trying to find the strength to move while wondering if it was truly necessary to ever move again. Fitz murmured in her ear, lightly rubbing her back before skating his hands down to massage her hamstrings. 

Jemma finally pulled away, just far enough to place her hands to his cheeks and draw him into a kiss. Once they separated, she rested her forehead against his and smiled. 

“Despite everything that happened after,” she whispered, “that still was the happiest day of my life.”

“Mine too.”

He lowered her down then, supporting her weight until she was stretched out on the mattress and he was cuddling next to her. Long moments passed, and then Jemma furrowed her brow.

“I thought you said you hadn’t been with anyone.”

Fitz tensed and propped himself on his elbow. “Jemma, I haven’t been. I swear. Don’t you believe me?”

“You just,” she replied, feeling her cheeks turning warm, “seem to have a lot of new moves.”

Fitz looked away, his mouth working as he attempted to respond, his own blush rising.

“I mean, not that we were devout missionaries before or anything,” Jemma clarified. 

Fitz snorted, ducking his head, then facing her again. His eyes twinkled. “Sometimes, Jemma, when a man is lonely, he resorts to watching…online entertainment. And most of those videos are utterly ridiculous and actually quite gross, but a few of them might give him some ideas.”

“Oh, I see.” She fought a smile. 

“But if you wanted to go back to basics and stop experim – ”

“No, no,” she interrupted quickly. “I definitely think we should continue to explore these _ideas_ of yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of all the things I feel I need to apologize for in this story, the ridiculous fluff of that snow day scene seems like the worst.


	13. Chapter 13

_The Iliad, Early April, 2014_

Fitz sighed, just barely shaking his head. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, of course, and would stay there, on his knees with his hands behind his head in surrender, if he had to. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. Of all the aircraft carriers the field team could have had business on, they had to pick this one?

Not that anywhere else would have been better, he imagined, considering Hydra and all that. He just hoped that Jemma, wherever she was, was safe. 

“It’s gonna be OK.”

Fitz glanced over at the very large man next to him who had been showing him around the carrier when everything went to hell. 

“The explosions and gunfire on the other side of that door suggest otherwise,” Fitz pointed out.

“I’m gonna need you to trust me now, Turbo. Just stay calm.”

“I am calm.”

Fitz realized he was telling the truth. Part of him had always suspected going into the field would get him killed. In his darkest, loneliest moments, he wondered if that was why he’d agreed to join Izzy’s team in the first place. Now, when the time had come, he knew he didn’t really _want_ to die. But he also knew there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe he could at least take some of Hydra with him, or even protect and save some of the loyal S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in this room. They weren’t prepared for this kind of thing, after all. He was technically the ranking field agent. 

“Which one of you is this ship’s chief engineer?” one of the bad guys asked.

Fitz glanced at his neighbor – Mack, his name was. He took a breath, then began to raise his hand. 

“I’m the one you’re looking for,” Mack’s voice boomed out. 

They shared a glance, and Mack just shook his head at Fitz. They had little chance to communicate more, though, because just then a phone slid into the center of the room. It beeped, and chaos erupted. 

Bobbi and Izzy made quick work of Hydra’s men. Fitz leaned forward to pick up the phone, stood and handed it to its owner.

“A phone?”

Bobbi shrugged and grinned. “Needed a distraction. We used all your other gadgets getting here. Hey, Mack.”

Fitz looked on in surprise as his teammate gave his new – friend? Fitz supposed at times like this, you took all the friends you could get – a hug. 

“Hey!” Izzy shouted out from the railing above. “This isn’t over yet. Time to get moving. We have new orders.”

“What’s that?” 

“Save S.H.I.E.L.D.”

\---

He took it all back. He definitely did not have a death wish. All he wanted was to find Jemma, grovel until she took him back, and live the next 50-odd years holed up somewhere in a lab doing science. What the hell had he been thinking, going out in the field?

But there was no going back now, and frankly, there was a part of him seeing red at the moment, ready to shoot in rage since he’d gotten a glimpse of several of his designs in their arsenal. Things he’d created for S.H.I.E.L.D. to protect the world, now in the hands of Hydra. His work causing death and destruction, just like she had once accused him of. Fitz took a deep breath, slowly exhaling the feelings of betrayal and anger and guilt. He swallowed as the door took another hit, and then he braced himself. 

If this was it, though, there were worse ways to go. He respected the people standing next to him, considered a few of them good friends, probably would have considered the others so as well, if he’d had a chance to get to know them better. That was unlikely to happen now, unfortunately. They’d all agreed, though. They’d take back that ship or die trying. They’d do their part to stop Hydra and they’d do it by choice, not just because they were blindly following orders. 

Fitz looked briefly at Mack, who gave him a grim nod in return. Then he turned his head to the other side to make eye contact with Bobbi. She gave him a quick, sad smile. Fitz closed his eyes for a moment, thought of Jemma, tried to send out some positive thoughts in hope for her safety and that she’d live a long and happy life, and then he opened them again. Just in time for the door to blast open.

_The Playground, Early March, 2015_

“I didn’t know you were married, Agent May.”

May turned to her, face as expressionless as always, and blinked once. Jemma almost ran away. But then May completely startled her by nodding. Jemma took that as permission to continue talking.

“When did you split up?”

“About seven years ago.”

“And…is this the first you’ve spent any time with him since then?”

May tilted her head in acknowledgment, and Jemma nodded. She certainly understood how that felt. 

“Well,” she said, seeking a silver lining, “it was good of you to bring him in. Skye really needs to talk to someone.”

She chose not to understand the implicit meaning of May’s eyebrow raise. Yes, they all probably needed to talk to someone. Jemma had no intention of doing so unless or until she was ordered to. 

“And – ” Jemma cut herself off at May’s expression. She was clearly and quickly losing patience. Jemma would have to make this question count. The only trouble is she didn’t know how to word it without giving herself away. She suspected that didn’t really matter, however. May no doubt already knew Jemma’s ulterior motives.

The fact that May unexpectedly spoke first only confirmed those suspicions. “Yes, we probably do still love each other in some way. But don’t think I’ll tolerate becoming the new gossip around here.”

Jemma smiled and nodded. “I think Fitz and I have that pretty well covered. But if you – that is, why?”

May looked off to the side and sighed. “Because I didn’t know how to work through the hard parts _with_ someone. Because I thought it was best to deny myself my own chance at happiness than ask him to give up his.”

Jemma’s breath had turned shallow by the end of May’s all too familiar reasoning. 

“And now?” she asked. “Do you think it’s possible – ”

“I don’t know, Simmons. But I have started to come to the opinion that everyone deserves happiness.”

“ _Everyone?_ ”

“Well…almost everyone.”

Jemma inhaled and exhaled sharply, feeling somewhat ill as she wondered, “What makes someone worthy of a second chance and someone else not? How many awful mistakes do you get a pass on in life?”

May unfortunately had no answer.

_Honeymoon Suite, Hotel in Hawaii, January 3, 2006_

Fitz kind of wanted to laugh. In a loving way, of course. But it was just…in all the fantasies he’d had about waking up with Jemma before he actually knew what that was like, and whenever he’d imagined how she’d look sleeping next to him on their honeymoon, she’d be peaceful and beautiful, a hint of a smile on her face, eyes twitching beneath their lids as she dreamed (of him), perhaps one hand curled loosely next to her face, framed by the smooth fan of her hair over the pillow.

Reality was far different. Reality was far better. 

She currently was arched backwards in a way that looked quite uncomfortable, legs sprawled out and taking up most of the mattress. She’d stolen all the sheets, was drooling on his pillow after knocking her own off the bed, and she snored every third or fourth breath. It had taken some time, but he’d gotten used to the almost violent way she could sleep. Springing for a king-sized bed when they moved in together had been a very wise investment, in more ways than one. In the year-plus since they’d starting sleeping together, he’d figured out ways to wedge his own body in the places she left open, nudging her just so and holding her close until she maintained at least some calm. Times like this, though, in a strange bed and several time zones off, there was no hope. 

She mumbled something in her sleep, then flailed. One hand smacked him in the face, and Fitz really did laugh, even as he groaned from the pain. 

“Huh? Oh. Sorry,” Jemma said, still half-asleep.

She turned her hand around to pat softly at his cheek, and Fitz reached up to grab hold. He pulled her hand to his mouth to kiss her palm, then brought both of their hands lower down, clutching them just over his heart. 

“No need to apologize,” he told her softly. “Good morning.”

Jemma smiled, humming in contentment as she nestled against his body. “Your own fault, anyway.”

“Ah, explain that logic to me?” Fitz asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I only move around so much when I sleep well. If you hadn’t worn me out…”

Fitz laughed. “I’ll take the credit for it gladly then and won’t remind you, Dr. Simmons, that REM sleep actually paralyzes you.”

Jemma grinned, kissing him quickly. Fitz sighed, tightened his arms around her and closed his eyes, feeling ready to drift back into sleep.

“If it means I get to share a bed with you for the rest of my life, I’ve resigned myself to never sleeping the full night through again,” he murmured. 

“Fitz,” Jemma whispered, the wide smile clear in her voice. “The rest of our lives.”

Fitz opened his eyes again, grinning back at her. “Gonna be like this forever,” he confirmed.

_The Playground, Late March, 2015_

Jemma breathed in and out slowly in an attempt to calm herself. In an attempt to stop the tears. She wanted to find him soon, get some explanation for what was happening, learn if he knew why Bobbi and Mack – if he was _part_ of it. And then she shook her head, focusing again on the equipment in front of her. She realized something was preventing the manual lockdown and moved to open a nearby drawer.

“What is that?” she wondered aloud, reaching out for the – 

“Jemma.”

She whirled, startled at the interruption. Fitz looked back at her, his expression tense enough to confirm her worst fears.

“Fitz. _What_ is happening?”

He held out his hand in a soothing gesture and took one step towards her. Involuntarily, she took a step back, and he immediately paused. His expression turned even more distraught.

“I need you to trust me right now, Jemma. And I need you to get away from that wall.”

Her face crumpled, confused by his second request but focusing on his first. 

“Trust you? How can I – is this – are you… _Hydra_?”

“No!” he shouted. He lifted his hand to his face and rubbed it quickly, before forcing himself to be calm and reaching out towards her again. “No,” he repeated, quieter. “How can you even think that?”

She took an unsteady breath. “I don’t understand, Fitz. I – ”

A hissing sound from the vent interrupted her and he glanced up at it. She took the opportunity of his distraction to back away more. And then she heard a strange rumbling behind her. She turned to it in alarm. 

“Jemma, no!”

She felt him grab her, yank her back, wrap her in his arms in a protective embrace. She heard an explosion, saw a flash, felt the ground shake around her and pieces of rubble flying past them. She grunted as the blast knocked them off their feet, and Fitz landed on top of her, and her head smacked against the ground. In a haze, she saw feet walking past her, heard a voice giving instructions – barely audible over the ringing in her ears. She struggled against Fitz’ dead weight – oh God, she hoped not _dead_ – on top of her. It was all too much and her eyes slipped closed.


	14. Chapter 14

_The Hub, Mid May, 2012_

“Oh, Agent Hand, do you have a moment?”

“Simmons.”

Jemma scurried to keep up with the much taller woman. It didn’t help that she never slowed her pace. Of course, Jemma had never seen her walk any slower, so she didn’t take it personally. Honestly, Jemma looked up to her figuratively as well as literally – always so sure of herself, dedicated to S.H.I.E.L.D., proven in the field and as a commander, _and_ super cool, complete with rebellious streaks of color in her hair. She was certain she could never pull it off, and always felt very much like a child whenever dealing with her. Jemma took a breath and steeled herself. 

“I wanted to ask you more about that program you mentioned the other day – the initiative to train scientists in field methods for mobile command units.”

Hand did a double take, and in a way, Jemma actually felt pride for surprising her. She guessed it didn’t happen often.

“You’re interested in the field, Agent Simmons?”

Jemma hesitated, feeling her heart beat faster. She felt like she was at a threshold, and there’d be no going back after this. Maybe standing at the edge of a precipice was a better description. Jemma jumped.

“Yes, I am.”

“Is there some issue in the lab? Are you unhappy here?”

“No,” Jemma rushed to deny any concerns and hoped it wasn’t clear she was lying. “I just have been feeling like it’s time for a change. Time to find another way of serving S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Agent Hand nodded in understanding. “I have to admit, I would hate to see you and Fitz leave, but if you’re certain that this is the right path for you, then I’ll support your application to the program.”

Jemma forced an awkward smile. Probably best not to say anything yet. Perhaps it _would_ be a joint application. Stranger things had happened – it turned out beings from other worlds and people with superpowers existed, after all.

_The Playground, Late March, 2015_

Jemma dropped the first aid kit on the table next to Fitz. It banged loudly in the otherwise quiet room. He looked at her warily, but Jemma remained silent. She shot him a stony glare as she pulled gloves on.

“Jemma,” he began, very apologetically.

“Lean forward so I can see that cut.”

“Please, let me – ”

“Lean forward so I can see that cut.”

He sighed and did as she ordered. Part of her resented Agent Weaver for asking her to do this, as if she really had a choice when she was essentially a prisoner anyway, but a larger part of her was angry at herself for _wanting_ to do this. She couldn’t see Fitz injured and not do something about it. Even if he was only injured because he got in the way of his accomplices busting their way into the base. Protecting her or not, it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t have _needed_ protection if he hadn’t – God!

She dabbed at the cut with antibiotic ointment, taking perverse pleasure in the way he flinched away from the swab. But then he reached up to hook his hand around her wrist. She made eye contact with him, and he stared back at her with a pleading expression. Jemma swallowed, feeling her righteous anger start to wobble. 

“I don’t want to talk now,” she whispered, her voice catching with unshed tears. “Not in front of all these people I don’t know.”

Fitz nodded once in understanding. “May I come to your room later?”

“Is it still my room?” she asked bitterly. “Or will I be locked up with Agent May?”

Fitz shook his head. “No one’s a prisoner. They – we just want to make sure everything’s above board. Coulson has so many secrets – ”

“This is a _secret agency_ , Fitz.”

He nodded. “I know, I know. But look what happened before, when there wasn’t transparency and communication. All those different clearance levels dispersing the knowledge and the power, making sure Hydra could sneak into every nook and cranny. Do you want that happening again?”

“I find that difficult to swallow, Fitz, when _you_ and Bobbi and Mack – ”

He winced and nodded again, allowing her point. 

“It makes it hard to trust you,” she added. 

Fitz took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I joined,” he said, breaking off when his voice croaked with emotion. After a moment, he continued, “I joined Izzy’s team in part because I wanted to see what the appeal was for you. I wanted to see if it was something I could handle before I tried to – I thought maybe there was a way I could convince you to let me join you after all.”

Jemma looked away, blinking rapidly so she wouldn’t cry. He reached out and took her other hand, continuing to speak low so no one else would hear. 

“And if not…I was pretty reckless for a while. Part of me wanted or, or hoped…” he confessed. Jemma looked at him, horrified at the implication. Fitz shook his head, soldiering on. “But something happened. I didn’t get over you exactly, but I found something else to live for. Other people who needed me. Other people I cared about. You’re still the most important person in the world to me, Jemma; you’re just no longer the only important person. I grew up a bit in that regard, I guess. Takes the pressure off you, at least. I know I could be too intense about you sometimes, and you hated it.”

“I didn’t _hate_ it. Not all the time, anyway. And I certainly didn’t mean I wanted you to…” She trailed off, gesturing around the lab at the quote-unquote _real_ S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

Fitz smiled self-deprecatingly. “You know yourself how staring death in the eye with someone else bonds you; I see it with you and the others from the Bus. It…blinded me, I guess. Or maybe I just went along with the plan because it gave me an excuse to come here.”

Jemma sighed, making eye contact with him again. She sought for a reply, and then she shook her head. She grabbed Fitz by the hand and tugged until he slid off the table and stood. Leading him out of the room, Jemma ignored the curious looks of the others, none of whom tried to stop them. 

“Jemma?”

“I don’t want to talk in front of other people,” she repeated. “This is private; I need to be able to yell at you.”

Even though she wasn’t facing him, she could sense his cringe. 

“Oh, there’s going to be yelling, _Leo_ ,” she confirmed.

\--

Her emotions had other ideas, however, because when she closed the door to her room and faced him, the first thing she saw was the bed behind him. So many recent memories of being with him there, bringing each other pleasure and comfort, whispering in the dark and sleeping soundly for the first time in _months_ – possibly even since she had left him, bombarded her. Jemma burst into tears, hiding her face in her palms and unable to force Fitz away when he reached out to hold her.

“How could you?” she blubbered.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmured, embracing her tightly, his lips brushing against her forehead as he spoke. 

She brought a hand to his chest, twisting the fabric of his shirt in her fist. “I – I – Fitz, all those times we were together, in the lab, in the field, in – in bed, and you could have said something, but you didn’t. Why? Were you punishing me?”

“No,” he denied. Raising his hands to her shoulders, he pushed her gently away. “No, I swear, Jemma. I just – I couldn’t say anything.”

“Because your loyalties are to them?”

“Because I was afraid. Whatever’s been happening between us, I didn’t want to lose it. I didn’t want to ruin us again.”

Jemma threw her hands up and walked away from him. “Well, guess what, Fitz – you did!”

“Please don’t say that,” he begged. “ _Please_.”

Jemma sat down on the bed quickly, bouncing a bit before settling. She twisted her hands together, and felt even more of her anger turn to sadness. 

“Did you even think to call me?” she asked. “After Hydra? Or was being a part of this group more important to you?”

“I tried to find you,” Fitz informed her. Jemma looked up in surprise. “I called your cell a dozen times,” he continued. “Could never get a signal.”

Jemma began to laugh, and laughed even harder when she saw his confused expression. It was unexpected and a bit uncontrollable, but it felt strangely relieving too. 

“Because Skye wiped all our data, and then my phone was at the bottom of the ocean anyway,” she eventually was able to explain.

Fitz forced a short-lived smile but didn’t seem to find it as amusing as she did. He walked over to join her on the bed. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” he wondered. 

“After the pod, there was going undercover at Hydra and – ”

“Jemma.”

“What was I supposed to say?” she blurted. “That I was scared? Lonely? That I was afraid I’d wasted my whole life and lost the only… What if I had said I needed you and you didn’t come?”

“If I had any idea where you were, you couldn’t have kept me away,” he countered. “Forget Gonzales and the others. I wish I had been there with you. Maybe I could have done something about that pod or – ”

Jemma made a protesting sound and he looked at her in surprise. She shook her head. “I’m _so_ glad you weren’t there in the pod, Fitz. You would no doubt have done something incredibly _stupid_ to try to save me.”

“Of course I would have!”

“That’s not your job, Fitz.”

He seemed stricken and looked away. “No. No, I know it’s not. Not anymore.”

“It never was!” Jemma exclaimed, falling back onto the mattress. Moments later, she propped herself up on her elbows. “Don’t you see? There are some things you _can’t_ fix. There are some times that I have to be the one to take on the pain and the fear to protect you. Isn’t that how it works, being partners?”

“Apparently we don’t know how it works,” Fitz observed, somewhat bitterly.

Jemma nodded. “You’re right. That’s fair. I never was very good at – ”

“I didn’t mean just you,” Fitz interrupted. “God, that is so like you, taking the blame. I’m the one who messed up here, and you’re trying to steal all the guilt.”

“Well, that’s unusual,” Jemma observed, only partly rhetorically.

Fitz faced her. “Hardly.”

“No.” Jemma snorted, before continuing, “No, I meant it’s unusual for you to admit you aren’t completely blameless.”

Fitz gaped at her, and Jemma rolled her eyes. She sat up and gestured broadly.

“Don’t you see, Fitz? You were always like that, so self-sacrificing, so ready to give up everything, so – as you said before – so prone to considering me the only important person in your life. Even just these last months, so unwilling to tell me the truth about something _this important_ just because you’d risk losing me. You were never brave enough to say aloud what you really wanted or felt. Do you think I’m blind or that you have some world-class poker face? Do you think I didn’t see when you were biting your tongue about something all those years?”

“Like that doesn’t go both ways,” Fitz interjected in defense.

Jemma nodded, breathing out. “It does. It does. But…you don’t realize how hard it was for me, Fitz, always having to be the one…”

She stood up, shaking her head and blowing out roughly as she started to pace. “Even in bed, always making sure I come as many times as possible. Always going down on me.”

If she wasn’t trying – badly, admittedly – to make her point, she would have laughed at the gobsmacked expression on his face.

“That’s a _bad_ thing? I thought you liked it when I went down on you!”

“I _love_ it,” Jemma confirmed, waving a hand dismissively. “But it’s a pattern, don’t you see? A symptom or something of you needing to put me first, put me on a pedestal and – and me feeling like I’ve failed you or don’t deserve you if I can’t live up to that or – oh, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Well, I sure as hell don’t either!” Fitz exclaimed. His whole face creased in confusion. “I’m not sure what – I made a mistake, Jemma. I’m trying to apologize for that, and you’re standing there talking about how I make everything feel like your fault and – I’m so confused.”

Jemma sat on the bed again. “Don’t you hear yourself, Fitz? Your group here is just trying to stop another Hydra; you only met them because you were trying to prove yourself worthy of me or because you didn’t care if you d – died after I left; you would have come to me if only I had called for you; you didn’t tell me because you didn’t want to lose me again; I won’t even let you apologize properly and so on and so on and so on. You – you always get to be the oh-so-devoted, oh-so-in-love hero, and I always have to be the bad guy because of it.”

“You were the bad guy!” Fitz shouted.

Jemma nodded, somewhat resigned but almost more relieved. “There it is.”

“You left,” Fitz bit out. “You didn’t fight for us. You just gave up.”

Jemma sighed. “I left for you – and, and I left for me. I left because my being there just made things worse for both of us.”

Fitz fell backwards onto the mattress, covering his face with his hands. Jemma watched his chest tremble and heard a few muffled, shaky sobs. Then she stretched out next to him, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“It doesn’t seem fair to ask me to forgive you for this thing so soon, Fitz, when you still haven’t forgiven me.” 

“I’m trying to,” he mumbled. “I want to. I don’t know how I can when I feel like you’re still holding back from me.” 

“I want to forgive you too. And I want – I want to explain it all. I’m trying to get there, Fitz. It’s just…I’m afraid of losing you again too, you know.”

He breathed out harshly, dropping his hands from his face and letting one wrap around her shoulders. They were quiet for a long time before he spoke again. 

“So, now what?”

Jemma sighed. She had been thinking about all their problems as well, trying to prioritize and strategize. 

“First, we figure out this whole mess. What’s Gonzales’ plan?”

Fitz shook his head. “I don’t know. It sounds like he’s become even more obsessed about enhanced people since I last saw him. I suspect he’s – ”

“Oh no, Donnie and Skye!”

Fitz nodded miserably. “I want to protect them. And I don’t want to give up on Bobbi and Mack; they’re not bad people, Jemma. I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Jemma promised. “Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Was this chapter Jemma complaining about Fitz or Mech-Bull complaining about the show writers? You decide!]


	15. Chapter 15

_FitzSimmons’ Flat, Mid June, 2012_

At the sound of the key in the door, Jemma took a deep breath and then a fortifying sip of wine. She gathered up the materials in front of her and tapped them against the coffee table to straighten them. Fitz barely acknowledged her as he entered the flat, dropped his keys on the small table next to the door and began sorting through the mail.

“Hey,” he finally said. “What a day. You’re so lucky you didn’t have to go to that briefing. Sitwell – ”

“Fitz,” Jemma interrupted. He looked up in surprise, his eyes narrowing when he saw her demeanor. “Fitz, I want to talk to you about something.”

He walked slowly over, sitting down close to her, never once dropping her gaze. He looked concerned and a little scared. 

“Is everything…what's wrong?”

Jemma swallowed, then breathed in shakily. Best to just say it as quickly as possible. “Do you remember the other week when Agent Hand mentioned that field scientist program? I’ve asked her – she’s nominated me. Us both, actually. We’ve been accepted.”

His brow furrowed, and he finally looked away from her as he took the documents she held out. 

“What is this? Some kind of early midlife crisis?”

He was clearly trying for a teasing tone, but wasn’t being very successful. Jemma blinked and briefly pressed her lips together.

“It shouldn’t come as a surprise, Fitz. I’ve said before I wanted to go into the field.”

“Years ago. You haven’t mentioned it in – you just applied for both of us without even asking me about it?”

“I think this would be good for us, Fitz,” Jemma replied, ticking it off her mental list of all the reasons she could use to persuade him. “A – a change of pace. And we could make a _real_ difference in how things are done on S.H.I.E.L.D. missions.”

“We do that here, Jemma.” Fitz gave her back the pile of papers and stood, walking away as he ran a hand through his hair. “All the things we’ve built for them, all the – and now is such a bad time. We’re still cleaning up from Centipede and we’re so close to starting on the DWARFs and – ”

“We could still work on them during the program or even from the field,” Jemma pointed out, focusing on the precious little robots and ignoring the sharp pang of emotion caused by his reference to the _other_ project. “We’d mostly be doing science for the field teams, not getting into danger ourselves.”

“I’m not afraid,” he declared stubbornly, facing her. 

“I am,” Jemma admitted.

“Then…why would you – ”

“I’m afraid of staying here,” she clarified. Despite Fitz’ sudden expression of hurt, she forged on. “I’m afraid that this is all our lives are going to be, making sacrifices to and compromises with S.H.I.E.L.D., resenting each other because we want something else, something…more. This could be that something more.”

Fitz turned away, but she could hear him breathing. He rested his hands on his hips for a while, then raised one to scrub at his face. 

“I could never resent you, Jemma. I’m…okay with what we have.”

“I want us to be more than okay,” Jemma pressed on, feeling her heart break. “I’m…I’m going to this program, Fitz, and I’d like for you to go with me. If that’s not what you want, then maybe – maybe this year could be a good time for us to just think about what we _do_ want and if we’re getting it out of this marriage.”

He turned to stare at her, horrified, eyes filling with tears. Jemma rubbed at her forehead, fighting feelings of guilt and more than a little annoyance at him for pretending like he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Is this because we’ve been bickering lately? Jemma, couples _fight_.”

Jemma shook her head, drained. “I don’t want to fight anymore, Fitz. Not tonight, anyway. Here is the description of the program and the offer letter. Read through it, think about it, let me know what you decide.”

She left the documents on the cushion next to her, then stood up and walked into the bedroom, forcing herself not to look back. Fitz didn’t join her for hours, and she was too exhausted to do anything more than pretend she was sleeping when he finally did. She eventually passed out and when she woke again in the morning, he had already left for work.

\--

Jemma closed the lid of the suitcase, pushing down hard to make everything fit. Leaning on it with one hand, she fumbled for the zip and pulled it shut. Stepping back from the bed, she glanced around to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. And then, a small noise from near the door made her turn.

Fitz was there, forehead pressed against the frame, eyes squeezed shut, hands in his pockets and a defeated slump to his shoulders.

“Please don’t go,” he whispered. “If you love me at all, please stay and – ”

Jemma sniffed and forced a breath past her suddenly tight throat. She walked closer to him, maneuvering her arms around him until he pulled away from the door and stepped into the hug she offered. 

“I love you,” she told him, or at least his neck, as fervently as possible. “I love you so much, Fitz. And this isn’t an ultimatum, OK? We can still...it’s an intensive program so there are no breaks, but maybe you could come visit or – ?”

He broke away from her and rubbed a hand down his face. “Gonna be understaffed,” he muttered, “so I probably won’t have the time.”

“Phone calls then,” she suggested.

“ _You’re_ the one who wanted a sep – separation.”

Jemma shook her head, conceding the argument before it escalated. “No, you’re right.”

“Just trying to give you what you want, Jemma.”

She couldn’t stop the frustrated eye roll at that. “Oh, Fitz!”

He didn’t respond though. Instead he stepped past her and grabbed the suitcase off the bed. He turned and went through the door again, avoiding her gaze. 

“Come on, the cab’s here. Don’t want to miss your first day.”

Jemma sighed, blinking rapidly. She looked around the room one last time and then followed Fitz out.

_The Cocoon, Early April, 2014_

Jemma tapped her fingers impatiently against the bench as she waited for the analyses to complete. The resources at Sci-Ops obviously would have been far preferable to the ones here at the Cocoon, but she’d make do. Seeing Fitz again would have just distracted her too much, and she couldn’t begin to imagine how he would have reacted to her showing up to use the lab facilities and then heading out to the field again. Or worse, how he would have reacted to her showing up with Trip in tow, even if they were just friends now.

No, this was better, if slower. Better to focus on the GH-325 and figure out its mysteries. She had hoped going into the field would be a way to atone, or if not, then to forget and move on. But she just couldn’t escape superpowered sera, it seemed. First, there was Mike Peterson and Scorch and the horrifying discovery that, even though Sitwell had assured Fitz and her that the Centipede program was scrapped by order of Alexander Pierce himself, there were still other labs working on it. And now this, something powerful enough to bring a person back from the dead. What exactly was S.H.I.E.L.D. hoping to accomplish with it? What was it actually composed of? (And if it could do all that, could it fix…) She checked the progress of the analyses again and groaned in frustration.

“Don’t worry, Agent Simmons,” Trip said, unfailingly cheerful, as he walked into the lab. “I’m sure you’ll figure out whatever it is you’re working on that you won’t tell me about. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Maybe she could get a second set of eyes? Yes, it was worth a shot. 

“I would like to contact Agent Weaver at S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy covertly,” she told him. “But we must keep this between us.”

Trip nodded. “My level six clearance gives me access to the holobox secure line.”

Sooner than she could have dreamed, they were set up and she was waiting for Agent Weaver to acknowledge her request. Jemma’s frustration only grew. She was so close to the answers she needed, and – 

“Jemma?”

“Oh! Agent Weaver, thank you for joining me. I’d been hoping – ”

“Jemma, thank God you’re still alive.”

“Wha – what’s wrong?”

Agent Weaver spoke quickly, the image flickering as she looked nervously over her shoulder. “Are you with your team? Get somewhere safe and lock the door.”

“What’s happening?” Jemma’s worry was only growing.

“The Academy is under siege. We don’t know how long Hydra’s been inside S.H.I.E.L.D. They are taking control! I’ve heard the Triskelion is under attack. I don’t know if the Hub is still secure.” 

Jemma felt as if her heart stopped beating. “The Hub,” she whispered.

Trip looked at her curiously, but Jemma just shook her head, calling on her – what now seemed woefully inadequate – field training to focus.

“Take care of yourself. And – Agent Weaver, if...if you do get in touch with Sci-Ops, can you tell…tell him…”

“I will, Jemma. If you survive, you know where to find – Jemma, don’t trust anyone.”

The signal was lost almost perfectly in time with the sound of the door locking. Jemma backed away, watching warily as Trip stepped away from it and closer to her again. Jemma shook her head in dismay, unwilling to believe that he’d – but how well did she know him, really?

Trip gave her a serious look, then pulled a knife from his pocket. Jemma jumped in surprise as the blade released with a snicking sound. Trip walked closer, before flipping the knife around to present it to her, handle first. Jemma reached out slowly, feeling like it was some kind of trap. 

“Take it. If you try to kill me with it, I’ll know I can’t trust you.”

Jemma did as he said, repositioning her grip so she could defend herself if necessary. When neither of them made any further move, they simultaneously sighed in relief.

“Fire that thing back up,” Trip directed. “Let’s see if we can get our friends on the line.”

Jemma did as he suggested, keying in the contact for the Bus.

“Unless you want to try Sci-Ops first.”

Jemma felt sick to her stomach at the mention. She desperately wanted to try them first, but at the same time, there was nothing she could do from there. If the Hub was under attack, then the best hope she had for saving Fitz was getting back to her team. 

“No, I…”

But if they were about to die, then she wanted his voice to be the last thing she heard.

“Who is he?” Trip asked softly.

“My…my ex-husband.” Jemma looked up at Trip, who seemed surprised yet not at all. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, we aren’t at the end of it, not if I have anything to say about it. So whatever you want him to know, you’ll just have to tell him yourself.”

Jemma nodded, blinking away the tears as she tried to smile back at him, meet his confidence with determination of her own. Then she faced forward and got to work.


	16. Chapter 16

_The Playground, Early April, 2015_

Jemma rather aggressively tidied up the belongings she still kept in her bunk on the Bus. It was nice, when they were out on missions, to have a comforting space there, and it was essential, at times like this, when she needed to escape the Playground and go hide somewhere that felt something like home. She’d just had her first real interaction with Gonzales and it upset her, to say the least. At first because he reminded her incredibly of Adama from Battlestar and all she could think about was lazy Sundays in bed, catching up on shows with Fitz. But then, as the exchange went on, it started to bother her in other ways. The excessive flattery and oh-so-reasonable arguments. All the supportive male authority figure buttons he seemed to know to press in order to manipulate Fitz just right. The way that Bobbi deferred to him despite her previous claims that there was no real leader among them.

She and Fitz needed to figure out a plan, fast. She didn’t know what Gonzales’ agenda was. She had meant what she said, of course – he did have a commendable reputation, and she didn’t believe him to be _evil_. She just didn’t trust him either. Good men could still go down the wrong path. 

“Jemma,” Bobbi interrupted Jemma’s thoughts, and she jumped in surprise. 

“Agent Morse,” Jemma replied coolly, returning to her task.

Bobbi forced a smile at that, nodding as she leaned against the door and crossed her arms. “Look, I know that you’re upset, but we really are all on the same side. And as soon as you and Fitz figure out Fury’s Toolbox and we learn what Coulson’s up to, then everything – ”

“You seem pretty certain that I’ll agree to even look at it.”

Bobbi shrugged. “If not, that’s OK. It’s a tech solution anyway, and Fitz is already working on it as we speak.”

Jemma dropped the blanket in her hand and stared up at Bobbi for a moment. Then she pushed past her, heading straight for the command table. She pulled up the feed from the lab and watched for a while, trying to make sense of the data she saw running through it, of the strange things Fitz was doing, sending something to the 3D printer of all things… 

“What is he – why would he do that?”

 _Oh_.

Jemma closed the image and immediately headed for the door. Bobbi was right behind her. 

“Fitz!” she scolded as she entered the lab minutes later. “I saw everything, and I can’t believe you! Apparently all that talk about – ”

“Jemma, Jemma.” He held a hand out in a calming gesture that only served to rile her up more. “I still want us to work together on this. The information inside is so valuable; you need to help me get it out. Once we do, things can go back to normal.”

Jemma shook her head. “Things can never go back, Fitz, no matter how much we might want them to. Can’t you see that?”

She reached out and picked up the cube, prompting the nearby agents to pull their weapons on her. Fitz flinched, clearly ready to step in to guard her, but her own barely perceptible shake of her head and Mack’s much more overt intervention stopped him. 

“You’ve destroyed a man’s life,” she added sadly. “Because of fear. Because of grief.”

He stared at her meaningfully before arguing, “Coulson is one person. I’m doing this for the good of everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. Our personal feelings – our relationship doesn’t – ”

“Matter? I guess you’re right. You may as well have packed my bags yourself.”

“Jemma, we have a duty to carry out our responsibilities. It’s times like these you stick with the person you believe in. If you’re not with us, then…perhaps it’s best if you leave. It’s what you’re good at, anyway.”

Jemma exhaled sharply, her mouth dropping open. Then she stormed away, ignoring the shocked and awkward looks passing between Mack and Bobbi.

\--

“Airport, please,” Jemma told the cab driver.

She looked over her shoulder to ascertain if anyone was following her, then sighed and leaned back against the seat. No one. Yet. Even if Bobbi and Mack did believe that argument, there was no way anyone with Un-Real S.H.I.E.L.D. would let her just slip off the radar. Especially if they suspected…she sat up again and opened her bag. It took her only a moment of digging before her hands contacted the Toolbox. She pulled it out and turned it around, inspecting it before closing it tightly in her fist. 

“Nice work, Fitz.”

Then she noticed something else in her bag, something unexpected. She removed the item, tilting her head as she read the note wrapped around what appeared to be a sandwich. 

“In case it wasn’t clear,” he had scrawled, obviously in a rush, “I believe in you. Love, Fitz. P.S. Be safe. And don’t forget to eat.”

Jemma couldn’t stop her smile. She unwrapped the sandwich carefully, breathed in the smell, and took a large bite.

_S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy of Operations, Late December, 2012_

Jemma groaned, lowering herself onto the mattress cautiously so as not to aggravate any bruises or sprains. One thing she will say about Operations, they had much nicer beds than Sci-Tech. Probably because they couldn’t have their cadets be stiff and sore every morning.

What a day. Obstacle course in the morning, swimming exercises just before lunch, tactics lecture while they were digesting, then hand-to-hand in the afternoon followed by an evening seminar on interrogation methods – from both sides of the table. And she’d learned that tomorrow would include evasive driving skills. She was afraid that she’d put the _crash_ into crash course…

Jemma turned her head to look at the clock, hissing in pain as a muscle in her neck protested. God, what she wouldn’t give for a massage from Fitz right then. 

Jemma sighed at the unbidden thought. It’d been months, and they hadn’t talked once. She didn’t know what he was thinking – if he was holding a grudge, if he really thought it was what she wanted, if he was trying to punish her, if he was waiting for her to be the one to break, if he had stopped caring and didn’t even want to speak to her, if he was afraid of what she’d say, if he was even still alive for crying out loud. 

Jemma shifted slightly, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone. She opened the contacts list and stared at his name for a while, one finger hovering over the call button.

She didn’t know why she couldn’t break through her resistance to be the one to reach out. It was guilt, perhaps, or the desire not to hurt him more than she already had. Fear that he wouldn’t even answer, definitely. Uncertainty about her own feelings. The knowledge that nothing had changed and so there was no point. 

Jemma sighed, thinking about all the occasions they hadn’t shared – birthdays and Christmas. Their anniversary was days away, of course, which Jemma was decidedly not thinking about it. And the little things too – resting her head on his shoulder when they watched telly, taking turns driving to work each day, smiling at each other from across the lab, all the small intimacies that she never even consciously realized until they were no longer a part of her life. 

But nothing had changed. She wouldn’t – couldn’t really – offer him the life he deserved; she couldn’t be the wife he wanted. And she couldn’t stay there, knowing all she was doing was bringing more and more pain to everyone who entrusted themselves to her. She had to _do_ something about that, which meant her life was taking her down a different path. As much as she wished he’d accepted that and joined her, as much as she wished she could find a way to make everything work the way it was supposed to, she knew she had to let him go.

_Restaurant Bathroom, Mid April, 2015_

Jemma breathed out slowly, forcing her hand to stop shaking. She leaned closer, held her breath and prepared to put the – there was a knock on the door. She stood up with a frustrated growl.

“Gonna be all day in there?”

“So sorry,” she called out as politely and cheerfully as she could. “Out in a mo!”

These guys had clearly failed Tailing Someone Stealthily at the Academy. Did they really think she had no idea who they were? She rolled her eyes before focusing on the Toolbox again, pressing the solution-soaked tip of her swab to it and then the – 

She stepped back in delight and admittedly a little surprise. Numerous files projected into the small room. She quickly swiped through them, finding the one she needed and attempting to connect to Coulson’s tablet. 

“Sir?” she called out. “Are you there?”

“Simmons?”

“Oh!” Her surprise grew when she saw the man on the other side of the screen. “Mike?”

And then suddenly, Coulson’s voice sounded out. Mike tilted the tablet so both of them were picked up by the camera.

“Jemma? How did you open Fury’s Toolbox?”

“Don’t worry, it’s safe! I stole it first.”

“Jemma, you’re amazing. Can we meet up?”

“No,” she responded, shaking her head. “I’m being followed. They won’t grab me. I think they’re hoping I’ll lead them to you first.”

“Can you shake them?” 

She looked around the small room, biting her lip as she tried to think of a plan. Then she spotted the electric hand dryer and remembered a tangent one of her instructors at Operations had gone on towards the end of the training program. She smiled.

“Give me a few minutes.”

\---

Coulson interrupted Jemma’s observations and pulled her away from Mike and his new upgrades. She could see traces of Fitz’ handiwork in it, and even recognized some designs she herself had been working on. Coulson had told her they were for a hybrid capacitor so they’d definitely be having pointed words about that later. Just because she wasn’t ready to become BFFs with Gonzales didn’t mean she approved of the number of secrets Coulson had apparently been keeping from the team.

There was no time for that now, though, as Coulson was already strategizing. Jemma had to agree with him that finding Skye was a priority – she was potentially in immediate danger. As worried as Jemma was, she was certain they wouldn’t hurt Fitz and couldn’t hurt May. It also would make their chances of reclaiming the Playground better if they had more people in their ragtag group. But the three of them were outside of the law now more than they had possibly ever been, so she agreed that they’d have to take some desperate measures. She was more than willing to do whatever it took.

Or so she thought. Because when Coulson said _his_ name, and _his_ face appeared in the hologram floating between them, Jemma felt a sick anger course through her. It’d be like making a deal with the devil; they could never trust him. Jemma didn’t think she could even stand to be in the same vicinity as him, considering everything he’d done to Donnie, her and the others on the Bus. And Coulson wanted to recruit him for…?

Jemma glanced at Mike, half-convinced she had hallucinated Coulson’s plan. But Mike refused to even look at her, turning his head away in apparent shame. She suspected that meant she had no ally and there was no way she was getting out of it. 

_Grant Ward._


	17. Chapter 17

  
_The Playground, Late April, 2015_

Fitz crossed his arms over his chest and gnawed on his lip as he stood next to May and watched the ramp open. He was feeling very conflicted. On one hand, he was relieved Jemma was back and Coulson and Gonzales seemed willing to work together for now. On the other hand, he was very concerned about how Grant Ward fit into the picture, and how well – or poorly – Jemma was handling that turn of events. 

In the end, he barely gave Ward or the woman holding his hand a second glance. May and the guards she brought with her had that under control. Fitz himself only had eyes for Jemma and he had to physically stop himself from running to her when she started making her way down the ramp. 

He managed to stand his ground though, and when she reached him, they simply stared at each other for a while. Fitz let his eyes roam over her, pretending he was checking for injuries. Eventually he made eye contact again, and he sighed, offering her a quick smile. 

Jemma nodded in reply, a smile of her own peeking at the corners of her lips. 

“Are you OK?” he finally managed to ask. “You’re not – Ward…?”

Jemma shrugged. “He’s alive. For now.” Then she walked past him.

Fitz opened and closed his mouth, trying to process that unexpected answer. And then he shook his head and hurried after her.

“Was that the woman who used to have May’s face?” he asked.

“Agent 33. Kara,” Jemma replied, sounding a bit off. Fitz realized why when she continued, “She was – she had been at Hydra while I was there, but…she had been captured from a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house, brainwashed. Apparently she teamed up with Ward after Puerto Rico and now, now they’re…”

“In love, from the looks of things.” 

Jemma looked at him. “Whatever that is, it’s not love.”

The statement seemed to have unexpected meaning and Fitz met her eyes for a long moment. “No, of course not,” he agreed. 

They had arrived at Jemma’s bunk and it didn’t even occur to him to wait or ask for permission to follow her in until he had already done so. She closed her door behind him, though, so she must not have minded too much. 

“Thank you for the sandwich, by the way,” she said, the change in subject surprising him and the tone suggesting it wasn’t really a _change_ in topic surprising him even more. “It was delicious."

Fitz smiled involuntarily. “Good. Um, I mean, you’re welcome.”

And then a vaguely awkward silence rose between them. Fitz was about to say they probably should return to the group to find out what was happening when Jemma stepped closer. Fitz took a breath and looked down at his hands.

“Are we OK?” he blurted.

Jemma stopped moving abruptly and Fitz cursed himself for whatever had possessed him to suggest they weren’t. 

“What do you mean?”

Fitz shook his head, looking down to watch as he wrung his hands together. “That last fight…I hope you realize I didn’t mean what I said.”

Jemma’s smile was somehow both sad and fondly amused. “Of course not, Fitz. We said what we needed to, to get the Toolbox out.”

“Yeah. Yeah, exactly.”

“And – the fight before that, we said what we needed to, to each other. And you _did_ mean that stuff. So did I.”

Fitz opened his mouth, feeling like he should protest in some way even though he knew it to be true. Jemma silenced him by closing the remaining distance between them and reaching out for his hands. 

“I don’t think we should get back into the habit of not talking, Fitz. Or of acting like our genuine reactions are necessarily something we have to apologize for.”

Fitz nodded in agreement, breathing out shakily and tightening his grip on her hands. And then he asked the question that had been plaguing him increasingly often since that day. “Did I really ruin us again?”

“No,” Jemma replied immediately. She paused and furrowed her brow. “No more secret clubs, though.”

Fitz couldn’t decide if he should nod or shake his head and he felt paralyzed until Jemma breathed out a laugh. 

“But no, you didn’t,” she repeated. “You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because…I believe in you too.”

Fitz felt a bit like he’d been punched in the gut at that, but in a _good_ way. He used the hands he was holding to pull her in for a kiss. Jemma responded immediately and any niggling thought that Coulson or Gonzales or anyone would want them slipped from his brain. For perhaps the first time since they’d started this, Fitz didn’t want something rough or rushed or acrobatic, didn’t feel the need to protect himself or pretend there wasn’t more there, didn’t feel like he was trying to forget or drive away some barrier between them. He wanted slow and intimate, and he just wanted Jemma. She seemed to understand and agree, judging by the way she kept the movement of her lips languid and stroked her hands up and down his torso before pulling away to peel off her top and toss it aside. She returned to kiss him again, shifting around as she removed the rest of her garments and let them pool to the ground. She moved her hands to him then, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it over his shoulders, forcing him to give up his hold on her at least temporarily, and then moving to his trousers and pushing everything down until he toed off his shoes and kicked the whole pile away. 

Fitz backed onto the bed, kneeling awkwardly as he tried to keep their lips locked. He lifted one hand to her shoulder and pulled her down with him. Jemma maneuvered him during their descent, ending with him on his back and her kneeling over him, straddling his waist. Fitz moaned as she reached down to grab him, stroked him several times, then guided him inside her as she lowered down.

“Jemma,” he sighed. 

The position became even more intense as she leaned forward to rest her chest against his and stretched her legs out behind her. She hooked her feet around his legs and one arm around his neck, crushed the section of the duvet near his head in her other fist and began sliding up and down.

“Oh God.”

His reaction prompted her to open her eyes and they gazed at each other across the short distance between them. She smiled, her eyelids drooping every time her movement brought him deeper inside her. She didn’t let her eyes close completely again, though, and Fitz brought one hand up, buried it in her hair along the side of her face, and held her so they could keep eye contact. 

Jemma licked her lips and stretched to kiss him. When they separated, she breathed out his name, and Fitz felt like his heart was about to explode from happiness – or pent-up truths.

“Jemma,” he whispered urgently. Her only response was a little moan and a twist of the fabric in her hand as she ground into him harder. “Jemma,” he repeated, “Someday soon, when we’re – when we can – when – ”

“When you’re not balls deep in me?” she asked, with a sharp, breathy laugh. 

“That,” Fitz agreed, nodding and clearing his throat. “Then. I want to talk for real. About what happened with us and what’s happening now and – _ngh_ – what happens next. Even if it hurts, I want to be honest and – and brave with you.”

“I do too,” she confirmed. “Oh, Fitz, I do too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, just – not right now.”

Fitz shook his head, smiling and dropping one hand to her bum to help guide her rhythm. “No,” he agreed.

“Really quite focused on this right now,” Jemma teased. 

“Me too.” Fitz grinned, suddenly feeling a bit mischievous from the mix of hope and confidence that had started to return. “Just a quick question before we continue.”

“ _Ohhh_ , what?”

“You do or do not want me to make you come?”

“Ugh, Fitz,” Jemma whined, her movement stilling as her head dropped down to the groove next to his neck.

Fitz couldn’t stop his chuckle. 

“Do _you_ want to come?” she grumbled, and he laughed louder.

“At this point, that’s happening with or without you.”

Her shoulders shook in amusement and she ultimately pushed up again. She stared down at him with an attempt at a firm face. “You’re not as cute as you think you are,” she scolded, although the impact was lost a bit by the way she clenched around him and began moving again.

“Pretty close to it, tho – ”

She shut him up with another kiss and punished him by maintaining her slow and sensuous gliding no matter how much he tried to hint for more.

_Sci-Ops, Late February, 2008_

“Have you lost your mind? You can’t bring a baby in here!”

Fitz looked up at Jemma’s shout, then over to the door. Then he nearly fell off his stool as he hopped up and raced over, beating Donnie and two lab techs to their colleague and her most prized Christmas present. 

“Oh, nonsense,” Fitz dismissed her concerns. “We’re not working on anything dangerous to him. Can I hold him?”

“But what about all the samples he might contaminate?” Jemma argued.

Fitz barely noticed as Donnie sent an eye roll at Jemma. He was too busy gleefully yet cautiously holding his arms out as the baby was transferred into them. 

“He’s so cute! Look at his little nose,” Fitz cooed. 

“Uh oh, Jemma,” Jenkins said, laughing. “He’s got that look. My husband had that look about a year ago, now look at us.”

 _That_ Fitz registered, and he immediately blushed as his mouth dropped open. “Oh! No, I – ” he stammered, trying to deny or downplay the implication.

Jemma laughed, interrupting him. “Oh God, can you imagine? Diapers and 3 AM feedings and sacrificing time in the lab? Better you than me, Jenkins.”

Fitz snapped his mouth shut and turned to look at Jemma, feeling a confusing mix of surprise and dismay. It wasn’t something they had ever talked about. He had just assumed, in time, starting a family would simply be the natural next step. It never occurred to him that she didn’t feel the same way. But it probably _would_ be more of a professional, not to mention physical, demand on her than him, no matter how willing he was to – no, if she didn’t want…

Fitz forced a smile and turned back to Jenkins. “Yeah, no thank you. No babies for us.”

He handed back her son and returned to his bench, hoping he didn’t appear quite as upset as he felt.

_The Bus, Mid May, 2014_

“Run! Donnie, run!”

Jemma pushed him in front of her, and grabbed a chair to topple behind her. As Garrett’s goons crashed into it and stumbled to catch themselves, she took off in a dash herself. She caught up to Donnie quickly, mostly because he kept looking behind to see if she was following.

“Go, go, go!” she ordered, frustrated at his concern at the expense of his own safety. Not only was she better trained in self-defense than him, she was his superior. Not to mention, she was the one who brought him into this whole bloody mess in the first place. If anything happened to him, she’d never – he trusted her and depended on her and – 

“Oh no!” Donnie nearly fell as he veered in surprise.

Jemma glanced over, felt her heart skip a beat when she saw Ward, and then found a new burst of speed. She pushed Donnie into the nearest pod, pulling the door shut behind her just in the nick of time.

Ward pounded on the door, ordering them to open it. Jemma shook her head, widening her stance and stepping to the side, one hand hovering protectively in front of Donnie.

“Stay behind me,” she urged, struggling to calm her breath and her racing heart. The dead look in Ward’s eyes as they met hers through the window of the pod didn’t help.


	18. Chapter 18

_Med Pod, Ninety Feet Under the Surface, Mid May, 2014_

“Here, take these pills. You’ll have to swallow them dry, unfortunately, but they will help with the pain.”

“I could just open the window for some water,” Donnie joked half-heartedly, hissing as he jostled his arm while reaching for the medication Jemma handed to him. “Also, I think my arm is the least of our worries.”

“Yes, well…We’ll be able to think a lot clearer with it taken care of, so – oh! Here’s a sling; that should help too.” She smiled widely at Donnie as he took it from her. She needed to keep her spirits up, for both of them. “Honestly, we’re so lucky. We just need to figure a way out of here.”

“And then we’ll be in the middle of the ocean with the bends and no flotation and no one looking for us.”

Jemma ignored his grumbling, focusing instead on cataloging the equipment in the pod. Oooh, an EKG. 

“Donnie? Can you rig the wireless signals on this to send out a distress call, do you think?”

He stared at it for a while, then shrugged the shoulder of his good arm. “Probably,” he said, leaning forward to take it from her. “Not that anyone’s gonna be listening to S.H.I.E.L.D. frequencies anyway.”

Jemma took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she forced a smile. “It’s worth a try!”

Honestly, sometimes he could be as negative as – she shook her head sharply to clear it and went back to work.

Too short a time later, she had lost most of her enthusiasm and was sitting listlessly, staring out the window. She swallowed to get some moisture into her mouth and then gazed out into the dark water again.

“It’s fitting we’re down here,” Donnie observed. “This is where all life began, on our planet anyway.”

Jemma blinked. Then she stood up and began to pace.

“What are you doing?” Donnie asked.

“Trying to think of something. I’m not going to be complacent and retrospective about this. I’m sorry, Donnie, don’t take this the wrong way, but I do not want to spend my last moments on this earth down here with you.”

Donnie laughed. “If you have any ideas about how to get through that bulletproof, pressure-resistant glass, I am all ears.”

Jemma stopped moving and turned to face the window. She tilted her head, chasing the idea just at the edge of her mind. The glass, the glass. What were they missing? Oh, if only F – she squeezed her eyes shut. And then she had a sudden memory of a trip to the emergency room Fitz needed to take back at the Academy once when…

“The seal!”

\---

Jemma shook her head, refusing to accept what Donnie was telling her. “That’s ridiculous; we need a new plan.”

“We’re not discussing it, OK? You’re taking it, end of story.”

“There has to be another way,” she argued.

Donnie sighed and looked down for a moment. “With my arm, I can’t swim. And – it doesn’t matter if I survive, because if you don’t, Fitz will just kill me anyway.”

Jemma heaved a breath to stop her tears. “It’s not fair to play that card, Donnie. And besides…Fitz isn’t here. You are, and you’re my concern right now. If you honestly think I’m not going to do everything in my power – ”

“Jemma, stop, please. You’ve been really, just, I gotta admit it, annoyingly overprotective of me since we… _met_ , but especially since we came on the Bus. I know you love me; I love you too. And I get that you had some emotional stuff to work out and maybe I was filling in a role for you or something, but you have to accept that it’s not your responsibility to protect me at all costs. I’m a part of this team just as much as you are, and I made the choice to join it.”

Jemma crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head stubbornly. The whole word was falling apart, and she had to draw a line somewhere. Leaving Donnie here like he wanted was going to be that line. 

“Besides, S.H.I.E.L.D. no longer exists and you’re not the boss of me anymore,” he added with a small smile. 

Jemma swallowed past the lump in her throat, then made eye contact with him again. For a sickeningly horrible moment, she hesitated, actually considered the argument he was making, and then she shook her head again. She stepped forward and hugged him tightly.

“I can’t lose you, Donnie. Not you too. We’re going to find a way, even if I have to drag you up those 90 feet myself.”

“You’re not strong enough,” he protested.

“Water’s buoyant; you’ll float,” she countered.

Donnie broke away from the hug, stepping back with a quick gasp to stare at her with wide eyes. “That’s it.”

“What?”

“Ice.”

“ _What?_ ”

“No, not – I have to freeze _myself_ , slow things down enough so the lack of oxygen shouldn’t cause any damage.”

“Donnie, no. You don’t know if you can even do that. If you can, it’s too dangerous. And how will we bring you back out of it?”

“You’ll figure it out; you’re a genius! This is our best option, Jemma! This may be our only option.”

Jemma closed her eyes and sighed, lifting her hands to cover her face momentarily. Then she nodded, pulled Donnie into another hug, and stepped away to give him space.

“Hold onto that breath tight,” he reminded her. 

She struggled for a response, but turned speechless as his eyes literally glazed over. When he turned pale and then a blue-tinged white, her tears started to flow. She could barely see through them well enough to press the button on the rigged bomb.

_The Playground, Early May, 2015_

“What happened? What haven’t you told me?”

Fitz stayed on Jemma’s heels as he followed her out of the exam rooms and back toward the lab. He knew her well, and the expression on her face after Kara’s comment about Bakshi raised far too many red flags for him. She didn’t stop walking or even acknowledge his statement, however.

“Jemma,” he said firmly. “We agreed; no more keeping things – ”

He cut off as she turned to him. Tears were pooling in her eyes, and she shook her head quickly. “I know. I’m just – getting somewhere I feel comfortable. The lab, it – ”

“OK,” he accepted, nodding in understanding. He placed a hand on her lower back and guided her the rest of the way. There were two techs in there when they arrived, and he immediately ordered them out, not even feeling guilty about his brusque tone. 

Jemma faced him, lifting her hands to his chest in a clear request for him to hold her. He wasted no time doing so, resting his arms low around her and staring down as softly and encouragingly as he could. 

“I – killed him. Bakshi. I didn’t mean to; I don’t even regret it, but…I did.”

“What happened?”

Jemma shrugged. “He got in the way.”

“Of…what?”

“Ward! I had him. He was right there in front of me. I had one of the splinter bombs ready to go and I – I couldn’t…”

Jemma trailed off, looking down to the side. She closed her eyes and sighed. Fitz leaned forward to kiss her forehead, hoping to comfort her somehow.

“You shouldn’t feel bad. I wanted to…kill him too. And I couldn’t. It means we’re _better_ than him.”

Jemma lifted her eyes to his again. “I did try to kill him, Fitz, and I’m kicking myself that I failed.”

“You shouldn’t,” Fitz said, after hesitating a moment to adjust his understanding of what they were actually talking about.

“You don’t know him, Fitz. You don’t know how he… There are so many people dead because of me – ”

“Oh, Jemma.” Fitz sighed as he shook his head. “You don’t still believe that, do you?”

“ – and yet he’s the one person I couldn’t kill. The next terrible thing he does is on me.”

She pushed away from him and Fitz dropped his arms. He watched as Jemma hurried out of the lab, wondering if he should chase after her or give her time.

_FitzSimmons’ Flat, February, 2012_

“You want some tea? Or juice or something?”

“No, no,” Jemma replied weakly. She groaned as she made her way from the bathroom back to the bedroom. “I think I’ll just try to sleep a bit.”

“Good idea,” Fitz agreed, rubbing her back softly before stepping away and leaving the room. He called out to her, “I’m gonna put the phone right on the table next to the bed so you can get a hold of me if you need me. I’m in meetings in the morning, but Donnie will take a message. If he isn’t too afraid of catching it over the phone.”

Jemma smiled; Donnie’s hypochondria was legendary but… “I don’t think it’s contagious,” she muttered under her breath, as she crawled onto the mattress. “But I think you gave it to me.”

Unfortunately, Fitz had just walked back into the room and heard her. He shot her an odd look. “I haven’t been sick.”

“Ah…maybe you’re like Typhoid Mary.”

“Sure, it’s all my fault,” he teased as he sat on the mattress right by her. After setting the cordless receiver on the nightstand, he placed an arm on either side of her and smiled. “Probably it was something you ate.”

_If only I_ had _swallowed it_ , Jemma thought to herself.

“Anyway,” Fitz continued, pausing to look at his watch, “I gotta go. We’re finalizing plans for – what’s it called? Caterpillar?”

Jemma rolled her eyes. He had been testing out different names for the project since it was first assigned to them, conveniently forgetting it had already been named by someone higher up the chain of command.

“Centipede.”

Fitz shook his head. “Horrible name. The design’s only got six or eight branches. They should call it…Octopus or something.”

“Oh, Fitz, go to work.”

He snickered and leaned in. Jemma immediately protested, pushing a hand to his chest. “No. No! Don’t. My breath probably smells like vomit.”

“Can’t help it,” Fitz argued, forcing his way closer and ducking his head around as Jemma tried to avoid him. “You’re too hot.”

He eventually succeeded and kissed Jemma soundly. When he pulled away, he gave her an exaggerated look of disgust. “Yeah, you’re pretty gross.”

“Serves you right,” Jemma mumbled, burrowing down under the sheets. 

Fitz smiled and stood. He walked out the bedroom door, continuing to call back reminders and instructions the whole way.

“Call if you need anything.”

“‘Kay.”

“I’ll bring soup or something home for lunch.”

“‘Kay.”

“Love you.”

“‘Kay.”

“‘ _Kay?!_ ”

Jemma chuckled. “Love you too.”

The smile slowly faded as she waited for the front door to close. And then several minutes later, when she was positive he was gone, she sat up again, groaning as her queasy stomach roiled. It had been three or four days of this so far, although that morning was the first she lost the battle and actually threw up. It only confirmed the suspicions she had finally started admitting to herself. Jemma stood up and worked her way over to the chair in the corner and her purse sitting on it. She dug inside for the item she had purchased the evening before. It was time to find out for sure. 

When the results appeared on the stick, Jemma sighed and leaned her elbow on the bathroom counter. Her heart felt like it was in her throat while her stomach sank. She wanted to smile and scream simultaneously. She never realized it was possible to feel so conflicted – thrilled and dismayed at the same time, like all of her plans were being crushed yet her fears were proving to be silly and baseless as unexpected dreams filled in. 

Jemma shook her head. Then she carefully wrapped the test up so she could take it directly to the dumpster later. She was a scientist and so of course absolutely did not believe in superstitions but she still thought it best to wait to tell Fitz, just for a little while. Until she could settle her own feelings on the matter, at any rate.

_The Playground, Mid May, 2015_

“Ready to go?”

Jemma looked up from her case, saw May and nodded. She wasn’t thrilled about having to leave again so soon, especially since she really wanted to talk some more with Fitz. But Skye had succeeded in arranging a meeting between Afterlife and S.H.I.E.L.D., and she was tasked with indexing as many Inhumans as she could. At least it would keep her busy and her mind off Ward wandering around free.

She grabbed the case and followed May to the jet, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat as they buckled in and May prepared for take-off. They both were silent until they were in the air, and then Jemma finally spoke. 

“Did you hear Mack quit today?” she asked, feeling strangely jealous.

May nodded. Jemma hesitated, then continued, “You ever wonder who you’d be without S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Actually, been giving that a lot of thought recently. You?”

“Yes, me too. I’ve been feeling tempted to...walk away, take Fitz and figure out how to just be happy, if we can.”

May glanced at her, but didn’t seem to have a response. It was hardly surprising. 

What was surprising, however, when she finally realized there was something wrong, was the plane descending earlier than expected. May was the pilot, of course, so she wasn’t about to question if she had the right coordinates but perhaps the autopilot had malfunctioned…

She turned to face May, only to stare down the barrel of an ICER.

“Funny how you’re so convinced you deserve happiness. Cause it seems like you couldn’t care less about mine.”

“Kara,” Jemma realized.

“You don’t even remember, do you? Well, I do.” With that, Kara pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Centipede arm injector thingy does, in fact, have a few more branches. I just feel that the show really missed out on some fun foreshadowing there. However, since a Hydra is supposed to have multiple _heads_ , iconography is clearly not that group’s strong suit anyway.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT WARNINGS: You may have noticed this story says “Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings,” not “No Archive Warnings Apply.” If you’ve seen the end of season 2 and 3x09, then you have an idea of what might happen in the present-day timeline over the next few chapters; same for season 1 and the Centipede stuff. Many of you have also probably figured out other basic details of what flashbacks might reveal. Keep in mind that the rest of this story is going to get into physical, mental and emotional trauma that might be upsetting or triggering for some people. Please read ahead carefully, and feel free to contact me for more info if you are concerned about anything in particular. 
> 
> I also found that including the date headers took away some of the urgency and didn’t work stylistically the way I wanted, so instead – after establishing the general timelines – I switch back and forth between them using /*|*\\. The “past” is happening chronologically over a period of several weeks to a couple months. The “present” is obviously happening in about one day.

_Abandoned Building Outside Aranda de Duero, Spain, Mid May, 2015_

“You know why you’re here, but I want to hear you say it.”

“Sure, I’m here because you’re a twisted – ”

Her head was forced to the side as Kara struck her. Tears came to Jemma’s eyes from the immediate, blossoming pain, but she did her best to hold them in. Once she had control of herself, she let out a shaky breath and looked forward again. Just in time to see Ward walking into the room.

“Shouldn’t waste your energy, baby,” Ward said. “We’ll stay here as long as it takes. We’ll get her to admit what she did to you.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Jemma declared.

Ward smiled as he leaned both hands on the table Jemma was cuffed to. She stared up at him, refusing to break eye contact. 

“Got to say, I am impressed with this whole tough girl vibe you got going on. Of course, we know from last time that you can’t follow through on it.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Please just shut up.”

“And sure, maybe these last few months in the shadows with the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s scraps had a lot to do with it, but I would like to think dropping you and Donnie 20,000 leagues under the sea really got the ball rolling.”

“You really are the king idiot.”

Ward smiled at her, then walked back towards Kara. He paused to kiss her, before focusing on Jemma again. “This can go a couple of different ways.”

“Do your worst.”

“You see, that’s the problem right there,” Ward replied, shaking his head. “If you’d really gotten to know me, you’d know that I would never do anything to hurt you, Jemma. But I can’t say the same is true for Kara. And that’s fitting, really, because you hurt her far worse than anything she could do to you.”

_The Hub, March, 2012_

Walking back to the lab from yet another interminable meeting with Sitwell, Fitz flipped through the latest reports on the Centipede project with a frown. Things weren’t coming together the way they should. There was something off with the formula, which Jemma was having trouble figuring out, not least because of the three different level-eight classified components. How was she supposed to make a formula when she wasn’t told what was going into it? She had been mixing up batch after batch, tweaking the different chemicals in as many ways as she could think of, with no success. The higher-ups were getting a bit pushy about it, and that was just stressing her out more. Fitz would try to help her, but he knew how she could get when he suggested she might need help. Maybe if he somehow…

“Jemma?” he asked, pulling open the lab door. 

“Nope, not here.”

Fitz glanced up, confused by Donnie’s response. He looked around the lab and didn’t see his wife. 

“Where’d she go?”

Donnie shrugged. “She went to the bathroom, came back really pale, said she didn’t feel well, and left. About an hour ago. She must have gone home.”

Fitz’ frown deepened, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “You just let her go by herself?”

“Yeah, ‘cause any of us can make her do something she doesn’t want to. _Let_ ,” Donnie scoffed.

Fitz didn’t bother acknowledging the truth of Donnie’s statement. He was too busy listening to her phone ring and ring. Finally, she answered. 

“I’m fine,” were her first words. They were far too cheerful to be credible.

“Jemma?”

“Just haven’t kicked that stomach bug after all.”

Fitz sighed. “Would you go to the doctor already?”

“I’m there right now.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“What does she say?”

There was a long pause. “It’s not going to be a problem anymore.”

“Good. Want me to come meet you there, take you home?”

“Of course not. I’ll see you later.”

She hung up. Fitz furrowed his brow, trying to figure out why, at the very end there, she sounded like she was losing a battle against imminent tears.

/*|*\

Jemma focused on Kara. Truthfully, she did feel sorry for what happened to her, perhaps most especially that she had fallen under Ward’s spell on top of everything else.

“What happened to you was a tragedy,” Jemma said sincerely. “I had to make a choice when I was in Hydra…help you or blow my cover and risk us both, not to mention valuable intel that could save millions, even billions of lives. I told Coulson they had you, but there was nothing else I could do.”

Kara scoffed, shaking her head. Her next statement completely surprised Jemma. “You think I care about that? Hydra opened my eyes. And it brought me to Grant.”

Jemma’s gaze darted back and forth between Kara and Ward, her confusion growing. “I don’t – ”

Kara closed the distance between her and Ward again, wrapping one arm around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. Then she faced Jemma, prowling closer to the table.

“But I can never really move on and be happy until I have accepted my loss. Until I have found closure.” She looked back at Ward, who nodded in response when she asked, “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Ward stepped towards the table then. “I was able to give Kara some much needed information when she told me about what she’d suffered. She didn’t know it was you, Agent Simmons, who was responsible for her late fiancé’s death. A fine, upstanding, well-trained S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, recruited for a special program – and Kara herself was the one who encouraged him to sign up to be one of Centipede’s supersoldiers. You are here to confess that truth, Jemma, to give Kara the closure she needs to move on – to heal, the way I’ve healed.” 

Eyes wide and mouth open in horror, all Jemma could do was shake her head.

/*|*\

Her body didn’t know what to do, it seemed. She was cramping and blubbery and exhausted and angry enough to scream until her throat bled from the rawness and a little shaky and… She pulled the pad off her pants and rolled it up, fingers trembling. Her doctor said she’d probably bleed for a few more days. Each trip to the bathroom was a horrifying reminder. She took a deep breath, let it out roughly, and –

The door opened, and Fitz came into the room, heading straight for the sink and medicine cabinet. Jemma froze.

“A little privacy?” she bit out. 

Fitz snorted as he stuck his toothbrush into his mouth. “Think the female mystique’s pretty well fucked after eight years, don’t you?”

Jemma sighed as she stretched out and down. She pushed at his leg until he moved aside and she could open the cabinet under the sink. The pads were just a little too far over, though, and she whimpered in defeat. Fitz spit out his foamy toothpaste, quickly rinsed, and then crouched down to grab them. As he handed her the package, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. 

“This explains so much about your mood lately,” he muttered as he turned away and walked out of the bathroom.

Jemma growled and threw a pad at the back of his head. His laugh as it bounced off just made her angrier and she…burst into tears.

/*|*\

“Now, most of the scientists who thought one year of training would be enough to handle the field? They would have already given up. But I know you, Jemma. You’re surprisingly resilient. Like any good field agent, you’ll adjust to pain, push it away. So Kara’s taking a different approach – a paralytic combined with an anesthetic.”

Jemma breathed slowly, trying to tune out Ward’s commentary and unable to look away from where Kara slid another needle under her fingernails. Some part of her brain felt like she _should_ feel it, and tried to imagine it so when the pain did come, she would be prepared. She knew no amount of preparation would be enough, though. She closed her eyes for a moment, then focused on Kara again.

“In a little while,” Kara continued, “the drug will turn off. Everything you’re not feeling will flood in at once. Grief is like that, in a way. Your mind shuts down at first, but then…” 

“Kara,” Jemma replied, ignoring the glare she received in reply. “I know exactly what grief feels like. I’ve felt it myself. I’m sorry that your fiancé was part of Centipede, but I did the best I could with the information I had. You and he both knew the risks of working for S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“That’s your apology?”

Jemma sighed. “No apology will bring him back.”

Kara pushed another needle beneath Jemma’s next nail.

/*|*\

Jemma turned the page of her book, attempting to at least keep the illusion that she was reading. In reality, she hadn’t comprehended a single word on at least the last 20 pages. She just had so much trouble concentrating lately. The ruse turned out not to be necessary, because Fitz’ next move demonstrated he had no trouble interrupting her. He lifted his legs from where they were intertwined with hers, bending them as he sat up, tossed his own book aside and then crawled up to nuzzle her cheek.

“I’m bored,” he rumbled, before peppering kisses down the side of her neck. “And you’re far too distracting.”

Jemma whined in protest, lifting her shoulder and turning her head away from him. He only seemed to take it as a challenge, sliding his hand over her stomach to hook around her hip. Pulling her closer, he let out a soft moan and moved to kiss her thoroughly

“Surely that book can’t be that good,” he mumbled against her lips, as he reached up with his other hand and tried to pluck it from her grip. 

Jemma held on tighter. “Fitz, not now,” she said firmly.

Fitz heaved a sigh and gave up. “Sorry,” he said, as he moved around and lay back down, this time with his head in her lap. He wrapped his arms around her in a strange sort of hug, snuggling a bit as he got more comfortable. Jemma hesitated a long moment before working up the courage to thread her fingers through his hair and massage his scalp. Fitz hummed in contentment, and Jemma struggled to feel the same way.

/*|*\

A drop of sweat trickled down her back, and Jemma whimpered as she shifted in her seat. She tried to distract herself by returning to her assessment of the restraints holding her. The cuffs were heavy but the table they were connected to was in poor condition. One of the bolts was already starting to come loose. With the right amount of force, with just the right angle for leverage… Jemma had no intention of fighting, of course. She would never be able to fend off Ward or Kara individually, let alone together. She just needed an element of surprise and a head start.

“It’s happening. She feels it.”

/*|*\

“Just a hint of pesto _aioli_!”

Fitz did a little shimmy of anticipation before biting into the sandwich Jemma had made him for lunch. He had convinced her to take a break from working on the Centipede formula and have an impromptu picnic on a park bench near the lab, hoping the unseasonably warm spring afternoon would help her get out of her head a bit. She was clearly less excited about the food on her lap though. Not that he blamed her for that, considering.

“Is that all you’re eating?”

Jemma shrugged. She moved the spoon in her yogurt around a few times, and it occurred to Fitz she wasn’t even really eating that.

“You aren’t still sick, are you?”

Jemma shook her head quickly, lifting the spoon to her mouth as if she wanted to avoid answering him. Fitz’ eyes narrowed. Before he could say anything, though, a small puppy seemed to appear out of nowhere and crash into his legs, followed by a little boy, maybe 4 years old.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, quickly putting his sandwich aside and reaching down to help him stand up. “You OK, there, buddy?”

The kid nodded and shyly apologized, not quite pronouncing the Rs in his sorry. Fitz grinned, even as he glanced around for an adult that looked like they might belong to the boy. A rather harried young woman was running towards them, and Fitz decided to keep him occupied until she arrived. 

“No problem. Is this your puppy? What’s his name?”

He only understood every third or fourth word of the enthusiastic dog-related prattle that exploded out of the kid’s mouth, but Fitz dutifully nodded at parts that seemed appropriate. The boy was soon interrupted, however.

“Sorry, so sorry. Thank you! It’s amazing how fast those little stubby legs can move.”

“The puppy or the boy?” Fitz joked.

“Both!” 

Fitz laughed off any further apologies, and she was soon leading both interlopers away, one by the hand and the other by the leash. Fitz watched after them, unable to control the smile on his face. And then he turned back to Jemma. 

“Cute, huh?”

His good mood started to fade as soon as he spotted the tight, forced smile on her face and her inability to meet his eyes.

“The, uh, the puppy,” he added, looking down at his lap. 

“I have to get back to the lab,” she said, standing and tossing her half-empty yogurt carton in the nearby bin before walking away. 

He stared after her, feeling his confusion give way to a disappointment he didn’t want to examine too closely. Then he looked at his sandwich, all of its appeal gone with the accompanying loss of his appetite.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember - read with caution.

“Gonna be a long night,” Ward said, his tone friendly. “I knew you’d be tough. Coulson’s got a good eye for talent. And people who need to prove themselves.”

“Where’s Kara?”

“Sleeping. Oh, but don’t worry…I can go all night.”

Jemma sighed. “Can we go back to the needles? Anything’s better than listening to you talk.”

“Oh, Jemma. We both know you didn’t always feel that way. Remember how you used to laugh at my jokes? All those times you tried to flirt with me?”

“Well, you did jump out of a plane to save me,” she pointed out sarcastically. “And I was on the rebound.”

“Ah, yes. Fitz. I still have yet to punish him properly for the little stunt he pulled with the oxygen in my cell.” Ward gestured broadly around the room. “Maybe I’ll get my chance with all this.”

“Don’t you touch him,” Jemma ordered, her pulse picking up with fear. 

Ward smirked. 

“Now, now. Where’s that stiff upper lip you Brits are known for?”

Jemma sneered said lip at him, and Ward chuckled.

“You’ve become so feral. It’s definitely a new development. You used to be so practical, so scientific.”

Jemma dropped her forehead to the table, groaning. She used the opportunity to cautiously shift her wrists to a better angle under the cuffs.

/*|*\

“Jemma?”

There was no response, not even when he repeated her name. Finally, Fitz waved a hand in front of her face, and she jumped. 

“What were you looking at?” he wondered, turning around to try to match her eye line. All he could see was Jenkins’ bench, with the taped-up photos of her children and the coffee mug that said World’s Best Mom.

“Nothing,” Jemma replied, shooting him a wide smile. “Just – spacing out.”

“Can’t afford to do that right now,” he announced, the fake cheeky tone barely covering up his scolding. “They want to do field tests on Centipede next week.”

Jemma gaped. “What? The formula isn’t ready yet!”

“It will need to be,” Fitz said, trying not to sound too demanding. “I’ve already asked; they won’t give you – us…they won’t give us more extensions.”

Jemma blew out a frustrated breath and turned away from him, clumsily reaching out for a graduated cylinder and nearly knocking it over. “You mean _me_ ,” she muttered.

/*|*\

“You know, I always thought you and I were a lot alike,” Ward mused. “One face to the world, while who we really are…we keep that buried deep inside, where no one can ever find it. Before Kara, no one else ever knew everything – _everything_ – about me and loved me for it. It makes a difference. Probably explains why your marriage didn’t last.”

Jemma nodded ruefully, looking off to the side. Then she sighed and faced Ward again. “I used to think that too. I saw the similarities between us – the secrets and lies, the anger, the need to take some kind of control – and I’d wonder what role that played in how unhappy I was.”

Ward leaned closer, folding his hands on top of the table. “It doesn’t have to be like that, Jemma. Help me help Kara. Give her closure, and we can end this. We can all heal.”

“But I realized I’m not like you,” Jemma continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’ve seen the real Grant Ward, the one buried deep inside. He’s a coward who always has an excuse or someone else to blame. I take responsibility for my actions, and I have the sense to know who’s really at fault.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Sure I do. More importantly, I know me. And if there’s any person from our old team, the team _you betrayed_ , that I’m most like, who I learned the most from, it certainly isn’t you.”

“Really? Who is it then?”

“May,” Jemma declared, standing and pulling the cuffs up at the angle she calculated to be just right to bust through the table. She brought the metal back down over Ward’s head and slammed him to the table before yanking the needles from her fingers, adrenaline too high to even feel the pain, and sticking them into his neck. And then she ran.

/*|*\

Jemma couldn’t peel her eyes from the multiple screens in the command center. She could barely breathe, and Fitz was fidgeting next to her from nerves. It was rare that they were invited into the command center to watch ops firsthand, but since this was a training test for Centipede, it was important for them to see it in action.

“Everything’s gonna be fine,” Fitz said, just loud enough for her to hear. He glanced at his watch, clearly hoping the exercise would start already.

“Please stop saying that; I see you looking at your watch,” Jemma replied through gritted teeth. 

He couldn’t say anything else though, because just then, something started happening on the screen. The field agents began going through the paces of the test, running through obstacles and skirmishing in friendly combat with each other. The speed, agility, and strength they showed were both promising and surprising, since Jemma was still not convinced the formula was right. She glanced up at the data streaming on one of the screens in the corner, a feed for each of the 20 human guinea pigs. Their pulses were elevated, which wasn’t surprising. Temperatures rising a little too quickly for Jemma’s comfort. 

She was about to interrupt the discussion between Agents Hand and Sitwell when an unexpected sight did that for her. Fitz swore loudly and other responses in the room ranged from gasps to screams at the image of one of the agents holding another’s _disembodied head_. The blood and gore was too much to comprehend, as were the color patterns dancing across the aggressor’s skin, like something was out of control inside him or – Jemma stepped closer, finding the agent’s ID among the output even as the screen showed others at the facility running over to subdue him. 

A melee broke out as the agents turned on each other. Alarms went off as more and more of their readings rose to unsustainable, physiologically impossible levels. 

That’s when the first one exploded.

Jemma screamed that time, and she reached out to grab Fitz’ arm. She unintentionally dug her fingers into his muscle, unable to look away from the screen as more and more agents burst apart. Soon, the whole training facility was on fire, the conflagration destroying the remains of all the volunteers. 

“What was in that formula?” Jemma breathed out. “What did I do?”

/*|*\

Unfortunately, she didn’t even escape the floor, let alone the building. She fought the waves of pain threatening to pull her back into unconsciousness and writhed on the ground, trying to protect herself from another blow. She wasn’t able to move far though, considering her knee had just been shattered by one stomp from Ward.

“Now,” Ward said, infuriatingly calm. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Kara?”

Jemma gasped, trying not to puke from the pain. She looked up at Kara, and finally believed what she had been claiming all day long, what Fitz had tried to tell her so many times, and what she had never truly accepted before. 

“I didn’t kill those men,” she stated with complete certainty. _I didn’t kill the baby_ , she added to herself. “It wasn’t my fault.” 

Kara turned to Ward. “This isn’t right. I’m not feeling it. She doesn’t care if she dies and…she’s not sorry.”

“It’s OK, baby. I know what to do.”

Jemma lowered her head to the ground, refusing to cry.

/*|*\

Fitz, through some help from the Hub’s surveillance system, found Jemma on the floor of a rarely used subbasement storage room. The sobs racking through her made it clear she didn’t even realize he was there until he knelt beside her and wrapped his arms around her. She tried to push him away, but Fitz just hugged tighter.

“There’s nothing you could have done,” he told her.

“Yes, there was!”

“No, Jemma – ”

She sat up, staring at him with red-rimmed eyes and wild hair. “I could have done _something_. I could have stopped it. I could have realized there was a problem before it was too late!”

“You did,” Fitz reminded her. “You told them it wasn’t ready.”

Jemma stood and began to pace. “It wasn’t enough. I shouldn’t have even agreed to do it in the first place. I’ve always been so… _curious_. Trying to understand things, control them. I should have – we broke the first rule of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

He turned and dropped to sit on the ground, bending his knees and crossing his arms over them. He didn’t agree with her self-recrimination, but he thought it best for her to let it out. She had been keeping something bottled up lately; maybe this would help.

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“Protection! Saving lives! What are we even doing here, Fitz? I didn’t just break S.H.I.E.L.D.’s mandate; I went against nature itself! The – the first law of thermodynamics, no energy in the universe is created and none is destroyed.” She panted for a few moments, bringing one hand up to curl over her stomach in a gesture Fitz didn’t quite understand. “But I can’t create,” she whispered. “I only ever bring death.” 

“You didn’t kill those agents, Jemma,” Fitz argued.

She whirled to face him. “Easy for you to say. Your delivery mechanism worked fine. I’m the one that failed.”

Fitz shook his head. “It’s never been about your parts and my parts, Jemma. It’s how they work together. This time they didn’t – mostly because S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t give us the data we needed on a few of those components, I might remind you, no matter how often we asked for them. Next time will – ”

“There won’t _be_ a next time, Fitz! There can’t be. I can’t go through that again.”

Fitz buried his face in his palms for a moment, feeling strangely like he and Jemma were having two entirely different conversations. Then he scrubbed them up and down quickly. “S.H.I.E.L.D. killed those agents,” he eventually declared, hoping none of the cameras down here picked up audio. “When they approved the field tests despite our objections.”

Jemma shook her head and turned away again. “They moved ahead on the tests because they need it in the field, Fitz. And maybe it would have been ready if – if we were clicking better – if we hadn’t been so – ”

“I don’t deserve that,” Fitz interrupted, before adding forcefully, “And neither do you.”

/*|*\

Ward pulled sharply on the bindings tying Jemma to the chair, and she grunted as it aggravated her injuries, the pain cascading through her body. Then she forced herself to be quiet again. She stared straight ahead, trying to figure out what his plan was, what the gun she could just see in her peripheral vision was for. Her brain felt so muddy, though, and it didn’t make sense. Fortunately, Ward could never pass up the chance to hear himself speak, so she’d just need to wait until he explained it.

He stepped around and crouched in front of her. “Since you’ve shown no remorse for your sins against Kara, since you clearly have no regard for your own life, we’re leaving you a little present.” 

He straightened, then nodded at Kara where she stood by the door. “First person through that door…brains everywhere.”

Jemma’s jaw dropped open. She shook her head, and Ward smiled. 

“I told you I know you, Jemma. Hurting you like we have been, that was really just for fun. To pass the time. I knew you’d take it because you think you deserve it or because you think better you than someone else. But it would have never broken you. No. The worst thing, the absolute worst thing we can do to you is make you live with the guilt of knowing he died because of you.”

Over his shoulder, Kara smiled at Jemma. “Closure,” she concluded.

/*|*\

Jemma fought a yawn as she made her way back to the lab with more tea. It was late night number seven since the Centipede disaster, and she wasn’t sure whether she was making any progress or not. Trying to figure it out at least gave her something to focus on. And if she succeeded, it might just be the first responsible thing she’d ever done to protect the people she had sworn to.

Which was why she was upset, to say the least, when she entered the lab and saw several men loading all her samples and research notes onto carts. Fitz stood off to the side, arms crossed, his expression difficult to read.

“Fitz, what’s – no! You can’t take that!”

One of the men shrugged. “Sitwell’s orders.”

Fitz glanced at her. “Came down from Pierce himself, apparently. Centipede’s finished.”

She wanted to feel relief, but she was too overwhelmed with the realization that now she’d never know. She’d never understand or explain or fix it. She felt paralyzed, though, and couldn’t even speak until the men were gone, along with all traces of her research. She looked at Fitz, a little squeak of despair escaping her lips.

He took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully. “Maybe it’s for the best,” he observed. “You’re getting – things like this happen; we can’t dwell on them.”

A sharp bolt of fury went through Jemma. “How can you say that? How can you just let this go? People died, Fitz!” He opened his mouth to respond, but she talked over him as she walked to his bench. “They weren’t the first, I’m sure! They were just the first we saw!”

She picked up a weapon then dropped it back on the bench, followed by another and then another. 

“Give them as many cutesy names as you want, claim they’re non-lethal. It doesn’t change the fact that we have spent our entire adult lives building things whose only purpose is for battle, for maiming and hurting! For the best?! You’re heartless, a monster, if you can just forget that something we made murdered so many people.”

He sent her a distraught, wounded expression, and Jemma gasped as her brain caught up with what she’d been saying. She began to sob, bringing her hand to her mouth. Moments later, she felt Fitz’ arms around her and she wept harder. She lifted her own arms to embrace him, stepping closer to his solid warmth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m the mon – ”

“No one’s a monster.” She shook her head, and Fitz pulled back from her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he held her until she looked him in the eye. “It was an accident. A tragedy neither of us wanted or could have stopped. The best thing to do now – the only thing we can do now – is find a way to move on.”

Jemma took a shaky breath, then pressed her lips together. She nodded, resolving to try for Fitz’ sake. She wasn’t sure it was possible to move on completely, not yet at least, but the least she could do was keep her lingering concerns and sadness to herself.

/*|*\

As if on cue, two of the Golden Retrievers flew into the room through the vents, closely followed by Happy and Bashful.

“That was fast,” Ward observed. “Someone must really miss their honey bunny.”

“Ward, no,” Jemma begged. “Kara, your fight is with me. Please, just kill me.”

Ward stepped forward, reaching out to stuff the gag into her mouth. Then he kissed her on the forehead, and Jemma grimaced. 

“I didn’t want it to end this way, Jemma, really. But I always thought Fitz would give up the world for you. Looks like now he finally has his chance.”

With that, Ward set the trap on the door, and he and Kara left the room. Jemma immediately began struggling against her restraints. 

It was useless though. Maybe if she had more time, she would have been able to get free, would have been able to remember _something_ from her training. But what seemed like only moments later, there was commotion at the door. Over her own garbled shouts, she heard Fitz’ voice yelling to her and the whir of tech. Jemma dug deep for the last of her strength, finally feeling something give.

She rocked the chair up and to the side just as the door opened. There was a deafening crack in her ear and a burst of agony radiated all through her chest, shocking her with the realization that she was capable of feeling more pain than she already did. Fitz was clearly startled too, mostly in response to the blood that splattered out of her and onto his face. 

The chair settled back into place and Jemma slumped down.

/*|*\

Jemma groaned in pleasure, either from the sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains and warming her or from the kiss Fitz placed on her bare shoulder.

“Wake up,” he murmured. “I have something exciting to show you. A new idea.”

He had a rather familiar tone in his voice, and Jemma snorted. “I’ve seen that _idea_ plenty of times before.”

Fitz chuckled. “Not that. A new idea for work, something that will revolutionize forensics investigations in the field.”

Jemma furrowed her brow, turning her head to pry one eye open and stare at him curiously. He shot her a grin and rolled out of bed, whistling something. It took her a long moment to realize that it was, quite nonsensically, the song the seven dwarfs sing in _Snow White_.

She sat up, intrigued and hopeful, but unfortunately not fully convinced, that this might be just what she – they – needed.


	21. Chapter 21

_Abandoned Building Outside Aranda de Duero, Spain, Mid May, 2015_

By some sort of rote memory, Fitz holstered his gun. He was less conscientious about the tablet in his other hand. He barely heard it clatter to the ground, followed by the DWARFs it was no longer controlling. He was too focused on Jemma.

“No!” he yelled, running to the chair only a few steps in front of him. “Jemma, Jemma, no!”

When he grabbed her, her head lolled. Her eyes were open into slits, though, and he could tell she was still conscious, if only just.

“Please, please!” Fitz begged, pressing a useless hand to her chest in an attempt to stop the bleeding. He then shifted tactics, undoing the restraints and pulling her out of the chair and lowering her to the ground. He hurried to remove his tac vest and tear at the seam of his shirt for something that could serve as a bandage. 

He didn’t hear her at first, but then the whispers cut through his haze of fear. He looked up, startled to discover she was, at least temporarily, lucid. Fitz leaned closer, trying to smile bravely. 

“You’re – ”

“I’m sorry,” she cut him off, barely audible. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Nope,” Fitz denied. “Nothing to be sorry for. Everything’s – ”

“I love you,” Jemma continued. “So much. Please… _please_ forgive me.”

Fitz risked taking the time to place his hands on her cheeks. He held her still and stared in her eyes.

“We’re not doing that right now. You want forgiveness, then you stay with me. I lost you once. I can’t lose you again.”

With that, he returned his focus to his hopefully-good-enough first aid skills. A noise by the door captured his attention, and he turned to see May watching them. For once, her face was not an emotionless mask.

“Get help,” Fitz ordered. 

May nodded once and then left. Fitz leaned back over Jemma, positioning his arms under her and scooping her up, bridal-style. He knew it was mostly the adrenaline that gave him the strength to lift her like she weighed nothing. As long as it held out until he could get her to the jet and better medical facilities, it didn’t matter. 

“I’ve got you,” he soothed. “I’ve got you.”

There was no response.

_Center Table of an Otherwise Empty Restaurant, Mid September, 2005_  


“I can’t believe you rented out the entire restaurant.”

“Well, I made sure you wouldn’t have any distractions,” Fitz informed her as he pulled out her chair. 

Jemma shot him an indulgent look and sat down, allowing him to push the chair back in. Fitz stepped around and sat across from her. He leaned closer, smiling, the candlelight flickering on his face.

“You’ve been working so hard,” he explained. “And it’s your birthday. I wanted it to just be us.”

“It would have been just us at home,” she reminded him playfully. He had been so insistent about going out, making it special. 

“But the food wouldn’t have been nearly as good if I made it,” he countered. “And we would have had to clean up the dishes.”

Jemma laughed. “Good point. I have far more exciting and enjoyable plans for what we can do after we eat.”

Fitz lifted his eyebrows in, frankly, rather smug anticipation. 

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be the one getting presents on your birthday,” he teased. 

“Oh ho ho,” Jemma replied, shaking her head. “You can unwrap me but I’ll be the one getting everything I want.”

Fitz laughed, ducking his head and tracing a design on the table with his finger. Jemma felt a little pleased thrill when she saw him blushing. And then something, some kind of conviction, came over him. Fitz shook his head and stood up.

“I can’t wait,” he said.

“Um…” Jemma began in confusion, turning to face him as he walked around the table. “I’m not having sex here – ”

“No, I can’t wait to do this. I was gonna do it after dessert but…” 

Fitz stopped close to her and dropped to one knee. Jemma’s eyes widened and she leaned away from him. But it didn’t discourage him, and he reached into his pocket. Jemma glanced up, surprised and confused and increasingly excited. She spotted the waiter walking towards them and almost laughed when he saw Fitz and immediately turned back around. Jemma focused on Fitz again, breathing in shakily.

She gulped when he presented the ring to her. It was small and simple and perfect.

“I know – Jemma, I know we’re young and this might seem crazy but – I’ve never felt so sure about anything. We’re a…a fact. A constant. We have our whole lives ahead of us, and I want to spend every single moment of them right by your side. I – I love you. Will you please marry me?”

Jemma struggled to speak, her mouth opening and closing and her eyes tearing up. Eventually, she just nodded. Fitz closed his eyes, sighing in relief, and then he surged upwards, grasping her and pulling her into a very enthusiastic kiss.

Jemma broke away, giggling like a little girl. “Well, put the ring on, at least.”

Fitz twisted without backing away and, still breathing heavily, did as she commanded. Jemma knew she probably should have been admiring the ring but she only had eyes for him. So, as soon as he pushed it past her knuckle, she just reached out to pull him into another kiss.

_The Playground, Mid May, 2015_

Jemma admitted to herself, when she blinked her eyes open and squinted in the lights of the Playground, that she never expected to see these rooms again. The emotions she felt when she did so – relief and gratitude and almost a bizarre kind of disappointed fear that she’d never be able to escape S.H.I.E.L.D. – were difficult to parse. But the single most overwhelming emotion was caused by the hand gripping hers and the head bent over and nearly touching her waist and the pleading murmurs that fell brokenly from his lips in between the soft kisses he gave her knuckles.

She breathed in slowly, wincing at the drug-dulled pain the movement caused. Then she reached her free hand over and scrunched her fingers in his slightly-curling hair. Fitz’ head bolted upright, knocking her hand away, and he stared at her in desperate hope. He made an aborted movement closer to her, stopping when she began to speak, her voice gravelly. 

“I got pregnant.”

His eyes widened, the expression in them somewhere between a softening understanding and a grief-filled pain.

“I got pregnant and I lost the baby,” Jemma continued, struggling to get it all out before she lost her strength or courage or, with their luck, the chance to do so. “That’s what I could never bring myself to tell you. I wanted to protect you from it or maybe I couldn’t face it myself. Because it’s not just… I was – I was scared. I wasn’t ready yet and then… It was when I was working with the Centipede formula and I don’t know if the chemicals…”

Jemma broke off, turning her head to the side and squeezing her eyes shut. A few tears escaped, and when she felt Fitz’ thumb brushing them away, she faced him again.

“The doctor said it wasn’t that. There’s something wrong with…” She laughed humorlessly. “Turns out there’s one area we’re not compatible and I might not ever be able to. And then only a little bit later, there was the field test and – I needed to do something to fix that or try to forget it, Fitz. At least the Centipede part of it. I can’t fix the other part,” she finished with a sob.

“None of that’s your fault, Jemma,” Fitz finally spoke. “ _None_ of it.”

She nodded. “I know. I know that now.”

“Besides,” he added, shaking his head in slight confusion. “You don’t even want kids.”

“I…When did I say that?”

Fitz stared at her for a moment. “When Jenkins had her son.”

Jemma furrowed her brow, trying to remember what she might have said all those years ago. The truth was she had always avoided the topic because she didn’t know how she felt about it, even or perhaps especially as she became increasingly aware of how Fitz felt about it. Perhaps this explained why _he_ had always avoided the topic.

“Yes, Fitz,” she confirmed, ignoring her current physical state so they could finally have this conversation. “At 21 years old or whatever, I wasn’t keen on the idea of becoming a mother. At 25, I was conflicted. Even now, I’m still not sure. I’ve – always struggled with that. I never dreamed about it before I… I never felt very maternal and there were so many other things I wanted to do too or – or instead. But,” Jemma took a deep breath and blinked rapidly. “I would have liked to have the option.”

Fitz’ only reply was an _Oh_ , and Jemma laughed, somewhat inappropriately, before she could stop herself. She suffered for it though, when a sharp pang reverberated through her body. Fitz reached out to her and she waved him off.

“God, if we had ever once learned or remembered to really talk about our problems… Because I needed to talk to you then, and I didn’t know how, and I just lashed out and ran away.”

Fitz sighed, looking down at the hand he held and giving it a little squeeze. Then he made eye contact with her again. “I knew there was something wrong,” he admitted. “I knew it was…it was more than our usual bickering. I felt you pulling away and I didn’t know how to make it better or get you to tell me what was upsetting you. Maybe I was just afraid to.”

“I should have told you.”

“I should have asked,” Fitz disagreed, shaking his head in emphasis. “I should have paid attention to what you were trying to show me you needed.”

Jemma exhaled, tilting her head back and blinking at the ceiling. She smiled painfully. “We’ve been so busy trying to do what we think the other one wanted or deserved that we forgot to actually trust each other to choose that for themselves.” She looked at him again, pausing to stroke her thumb over his hand. “I know I kept giving you mixed signals, asking you to go to the field one day or that time after training when we…well, you know, and then telling you it was over and leaving you the next – I guess part of me wanted to find something else we could do together, some other joint purpose or, I don’t know, legacy, but another part of me thought if you were free to find someone else…”

He raised his eyes to hers, seemingly incredulous at the suggestion. Jemma’s smile in response was more of a grimace.

“I knew how much you wanted kids,” she explained. “And you’d be such a good father. All that…all that time, you thought you’d never get to be one and you just – that would have been enough? Might still have to be enough?” 

“God, of course. Yes, I was…disappointed but I didn’t want to…pressure you. Apparently I wore my heart on my sleeve more than I thought. I know you might hate it when I say this, but anything else I wanted didn’t matter in the long run. What you didn’t seem to pick up on is how much I just want _you_.” Fitz heaved a breath. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough.”

Jemma swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” he asked, brows furrowing.

“Well,” Jemma began, glancing around the room. “I’m kind of over this field stuff for one thing, but I also can’t – ” she focused on him again “ – I can’t keep pretending we’re not…we don’t…”

Fitz raised his head, eyebrows lifting in understanding. “Yeah,” he agreed, smiling. “I miss being with you, really being with you. Marrying you was the smartest thing I ever did. Just marrying you at 19 years old was the dumbest thing I ever did.”

Jemma chuckled, nodding. 

“You think there’s anything there left to salvage?” Fitz asked, his tone indicating he already knew her answer. 

“I think I’m willing to spend a lifetime trying to,” she confirmed. 

Fitz grinned widely. “Me too. So!” He sat straighter and his voice got urgent, like he couldn’t wait any longer to get started. “You work on getting better and I’ll work out a consulting arrangement or something with Coulson, and we both talk with Dr. Garner a lot separately and together.”

“OK,” Jemma agreed, her own smile getting impossibly wide. She barely even felt the pain at the moment. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Then,” Fitz said, trailing off as he shifted to the side and reached into his pocket. Jemma blinked in surprise when he produced her wedding ring and held it up in front of her. She realized then that he was wearing his again. Her breath turned shallow, and her lips trembled, and she nodded quickly. Fitz moved immediately, slipping the ring back on her finger where it belonged. “Then,” he continued, voice a bit rough, “we go find that cottage in Perthshire you always talked about and figure out our future. If that’s kids, then we try to prove that doctor wrong or adopt or foster or something, and if not, then we go on actual holidays every year so we can see the world when we _aren’t_ facing certain death, and we have sex whenever and wherever we want, every room of that cottage – dammit, this sounds better and better – and we sleep in on Saturdays and we get a whole bunch of dogs. And a monkey for our lab.”

“Oh Fitz,” Jemma replied, smiling and shaking her head, both at his rampant enthusiasm and his not-so-sneaky attempt to slip that past her. “We’re not getting a monkey.”

Fitz didn’t bother replying. He just leaned out of his seat towards her, placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her.

\---

May internally smiled as she took in the scene in front of her. Next to her, Bobbi’s smile wasn’t as internal, but it was tinged with the same retrospective regret that May felt. She backed away, leaving Fitz and Simmons in peace and resolving to address her own relationship issues.

She was halfway down the hall when she realized Bobbi was three steps behind her. She turned to face her, but didn’t slow her pace.

“Where are you going?” Bobbi asked.

May hesitated. “To…talk to Andrew,” she confessed. After a moment, she added “Why, where are you going?”

Bobbi’s expression turned sheepish. “I’ve got a phone call to make.”

May nodded in understanding and a little amusement. They split at the intersection with the next corridor, each heading towards their own chance at happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am more interested in the internal relationship dynamics that occur when individuals try to be a couple, while TV shows tend to be more interested in external conflicts – a 3rd party, traumatic events and forced obstacles. So, I really wanted to explore some of the character-driven issues between them (Jemma’s tendency to bottle up and take on the responsibility for everything, Fitz’ insecurities, Jemma’s thirst for adventure and scientific drive, Fitz’ resistance to change and homebody nature, both of their hero complexes and communication problems, the codependent nature of their relationship and how they needed to develop healthy ways of adapting as they faced new and adult challenges both independently and together, etc.) so when the external events occurred, it hopefully made sense how and why the previously established fault lines in their relationship cracked under the pressure. I also wanted to show how much they loved each other and wanted to be together, how much they had learned and grew as a result of their separation and field experiences, how good they actually were at working through problems together, so when the external push brought them back together for good, it felt earned and like there was a strong foundation for it actually working. So, it’s been a fun challenge trying to get those ideas across in an engaging way. It was particularly interesting to try to do it nonlinearly so Jemma’s motivations especially were a bit of a mystery. (As previously “hinted,” part of the reason for this was to make some commentary re: the show’s tendency to build up Fitz at Jemma’s expense. Fitz needs to stop being so self-sacrificing and Jemma eventually must be allowed to speak, process, and heal before I can believe they’re actually going to be OK.) And who doesn’t love a mix of fluff, angst and smut? Thanks for coming along with me on this crazy rollercoaster ride!
> 
> And I know I said I wasn’t going to write any reproduction stories for a while. It just fit here, and it’s not like this was a babyfic. Also this fic is brought to you by my ambivalence about motherhood and the increasing likelihood it’s a moot point anyway. I know a lot of people read and write fic for escapism and I appreciate that. I often do too. But I also think that community spaces like fandom are wonderful and even necessary for processing real-life issues. I know from indirect references only that many loved ones have had miscarriages, and I found lots of generic info on Reliable Medical Web Sites. But it was in the forums and blogs that I got authentic details of what one might experience in this situation. It’s so common but rarely talked about and I think that’s sad. I also think it’s sad that in our (at least the US) culture, being a mother (or more accurately, having a baby) is often portrayed as the most important thing a woman can do. Women that don’t want that or are uncertain about it are often treated as unnatural or damaged, selfish or immature. Again, it’s more in these personal, confidential niches that people carve out where I see more nuanced discussion of real attitudes, feelings and experiences. Because of that, I’m super thankful for fandom and other communities. 
> 
> On a random note, I had this worked out before the similar plot on Agent Carter and it made me so frustrated when that happened! 
> 
> Some of you might be interested in my writing process. I organized this as 9 “blocks,” grouping scenes chronologically, thematically and/or to juxtapose different emotions. However it takes me forever to post chapters (revising and editing, checking against show canon and fic canon/plans, formatting, etc.) and so I try to do chapters that are ~2000 words so I can at least post regularly. (I am in awe of authors who post more than that.) This required breaking the sections into multiple chapters that sometimes messed up the connections between different scenes. I’m tempted to go back and combine them as they “should” be but… I’m lazy. (I also want to go back and reorganize because I’m curious to see if it holds up linearly…) But anyway, here’s the block:chapter breakdown – Block 1=chapters 1-2; 2=3-4; 3=5-7; 4=8-10; 5=11-12; 6=13; 7=14-16; 8=17-18; 9=19-21.
> 
> Tonally, I felt this story needed a HOPEFUL ending rather than a HAPPY one. On the other hand, this story has left me feeling a little emotionally raw and I’m not quite ready to let this universe go yet so I MIGHT do a quick sequel of sorts. And then…if you’re not on tumblr and even if you are, you might have missed me saying I’m planning an indefinite fic-writing break after this. See above re: how much time and effort I ~~waste~~ spend on it. Frankly, the costs vs. relatively small incentives to transform my imagination into posted fic are too unbalanced and I need to focus on real life stuff for at least a little while. AND OMG THESE AUTHOR NOTES ARE PROBABLY LONGER THAN THE CHAPTER AT THIS POINT SO BYE.


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